Resurfacing
by Musiclove95
Summary: "Don't play dumb with me, Clarissa. I know what you did. Now get out of my house," he ordered. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek. I glared at my brother. "Jonathan . . . I thought? You swore? I . . . You . . . I hate you," I finally spat out.plz R&R!
1. Disowned

**Heyyy all! this idea has been nagging me forever and I decided to give in and see how it goes. this story is going to be angst-y and romantic. at least i hope so. this story is about Clary. Her father decides to disown her one night, three years after an accident in Yellowstone National Park. I hope you like it because i think the idea is good. let me know what you think. just a note: the characters are going to seem slightly out of character for a little while but i will try my absolute best to stay true to their personalities from the books,**

**Thanks,**

**TC95**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments series. That pleasure belongs to Cassandra Clare. The plot is mine though**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey I had a couple requests that I fix the format of the earlier chapters so this is just me reposting them so it's easier for you to read. Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

1. Disowned

Clary PoV

"Get out of my house. You have five minutes to pack and then I never want to see your face again."

I felt my jaw drop and eyes widen. "But Father? What did I do?" I asked.

He glared at me with his beady black eyes. "Don't play dumb with me, Clarissa. I know what you did. Now get out of my house," he ordered.

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I turned to glared at my brother. "Jonathan . . . I thought? You swore? I . . . You . . . I _hate_ you," I finally spat out.

He looked like an angel with his blond hair and black eyes. "You were never a concern of mine, sister dearest," he smirked. I narrowed my eyes at both of them; father and son so alike.

"I hate both of you." I whispered.

I whipped around, curls flying. The staircase looked like a mountain today. I started my walk of shame up the spiral staircase. I was_ sixteen_, for Christ's sake! You can't _disown_ your sixteen year old child! But, of course, no one makes the rules for celebrity lawyer supreme, Valentine Morgenstern. He can do whatever the hell he wants. Wanna rob a bank Mr. Morgenstern? Sure no one will care. I bit my lip and took the last step to the top of the staircase. I couldn't face my father anymore. My bedroom was the last one at the end of the hallway.

My orange walls greeted me, seeming to bright for such a dark day. Even the sky was a happy blue. I guess they didn't get the memo, in fact the world didn't get the memo. Today might as well have been the apocalypse, which in my life it was. I tore all of my sketches off the walls and threw them into a folder. I would take those with me as a reminder that I had been happy once upon a time.

I _had_ been happy once upon a time. I had a mother and father who loved each other and me. I had a brother who would go to the ends of the Earth for me. But no more. Jocelyn Fairchild-Morgenstern had died three years ago. She had taken me across the country to visit Simon and we had sidetracked to Yellowstone National Park to go and paint. Jocelyn was an artist of the highest calibre. Her paintings sold for hundreds, even thousands of dollars at Los Angeles art auctions. I wanted to be like her.

We were at Yellowstone and I was eating my favourite snack at the time, chocolate chip Bear Paws. You know, the bear paw shaped soft, delicious cookies? Anyway while I was eating on the bench, she was a little ways away painting the forest. Everything Jocelyn painted looked magical, like she had the painters thumb or something. I had been staring at her beautiful painting and I didn't notice the bear cub that was sniffing at my Bear Paw. I thought it was a dog or something so I stroked its head and pulled the cookie away. That's when the bear cubs' brother came along and started mewling at me for a piece like a cat. I looked over and saw the two baby bears surrounding me and the mother bear coming closer, snarling at me for teasing her cubs.

I screamed. "Mommy!" I shrieked. Jocelyn had whipped around and thrown her paintbrush to the ground.

"Clarissa! Honey! Don't worry!" she called. I had sniffled and tried to not be scared. It was so hard and I was thirteen. Jocelyn had started backing away slowly to go get a park ranger. But the mama bear caught her scent. The huge grizzly started stalking my mother like she was prey. I was too scared and by the time I found the voice to shriek, the bear had grabbed my mom by her ankles and started scratching and biting her.

"HELP!" I had shrieked. I swatted the bear cubs away and ran to where the mama bear was tearing my mom apart. "Get the hell away from her you stupid bear! Don't hurt her!" I had screamed and collapsed.

Next thing I knew, I was at the hospital in Wyoming. A grief counsellor was sitting beside my hospital bed. "She died last night. I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, returning to the present. I had mom's last painting hanging above my bed. I wanted to take that with me. I needed to take it with me. ever since I had returned without my mother, Valentine had blamed me for everything. He slapped me when I snapped at Jonathan. He threw chairs at me when I got less than an 80 on a test for school. He blamed me entirely for Jocelyn's death and I agreed with him. If I hadn't teased the bears with my cookie, mom would be alive.

Another tear slid down my face and I knew it was too late to stop the waterworks. I sniffled and started pulling clothes out of my drawers. I shoved them into the huge suitcase Jocelyn had bought for me when we went on an art trip to Europe. All of my clothes fit easily. After my mom had died, I stopped going shopping and only bought what I needed. I only left my room to go to school and grab my dinner from down stairs. I ate in my room and barely left.

My school bag fit all of my drawing supplies in it. I put my treasured Mac Book Air in its case with all of its accessories. My wallet and cell phone lay across the room and I snatched them up. I quickly dialled the bank. "Hello! How may I help you on his fine day?" the perky attendant said. I told her to change the pass code and name on my debit account. That way I still had all of the money I had been saving since I was five and Valentine Morgenstern couldn't do anything about it.

I looked over my too-happy room and spotted what I was looking for. My purse contained all of my hair supplies and iPod. That was everything. I swung my heavy suitcase at my window. It shattered into a million pieces. Valentine was kicking me out, so I have going to give him hell. I threw my glass lamp at the wall and pressed talk on the cordless phone in my room. For such a rich man, Valentine insisted on only having on phone line. I locked my door and shoved my desk against it.

Good bye life, I thought sadly, hopping out the window with all of my things. My window led right to the street and there was a hill beside our house that I could easily jump to from the roof. I threw my suitcase onto the hill and jumped down after it, bag on my back, purse on my arm. I must`ve looked like a runaway child. Nope, I was worse. I was a _disowned_ child. I slid down the muddy hill, shoes scuffing the sidewalk as I struggled to reclaim my balance.

I stood my suitcase up so it could pull it on its wheels. The Palm Springs International airport was around the block from my ex-families mansion. _It is always good to be close to the airport in case something ever happens_, Valentine always said. That was what he told me when I couldn't sleep because of the bright lights and planes landing. Until Jocelyn died. After that, whenever I complained about the airport of bed dreams about Yellowstone, he just told me to shut the hell up and get my ass to bed.

_So long Palm Springs_, I thought. _Goodbye Maia, Mr. Garroway, Aline_. I took a deep breath and walked into the airport. The lines were eerily short and my ticket wait was only half an hour. When it was my turn, the lady at the counter just rolled her eyes.

"One ticket to New York City," I told her.

She blew a bubble with her wad of pink bubble gum. "You go the money to pay for that ticket? All the seats left on that flight are first class. Can your allowance pay for that?"

I felt my cheeks blush red. I flipped my Air Miles card out of my wallet. I hadn't used any of my miles ever. She took the card and scanned it, her eyes widening with shock.

"I am very sorry, Ms. Morgenstern," she apologised. I shuddered.

"Actually it's Fairchild now. My father kicked me out," I said sadly. The lady looked at me, trying to guess my age. "I'm sixteen," I told her. Her expression turned sympathetic.

"You poor thing. You know what, I have your father's card on here. How about I charge it to him? My dad kicked me out when I turned seventeen," she said, smiling. I smiled back.

"Sounds good to me," I replied.

"My name's Hannah, by the way," Hannah said. I liked her a lot. She charged the flight to my ex-father's Air Miles account. Hannah looked over her shoulder.

"Cynthia! I need you to take over. I have to escort someone to their flight!" A short blonde girl rushed to take over for Hannah.

"This way Ms. Fairchild," Hannah said professionally. She showed me where to place my one bag and where to load onto the plane. I thanked her and let her go back to work.

"Flight 217 is now loading." A voice announced. I stood up from where I was sitting in the terminal and walked over to the plane. I handed the flight attendant my ticket. She led me to the first class section. I sat down in an empty window seat. Staring out the window I tried to keep from crying. I wouldn't cry; that would mean that my asshat ex-father would win. A girl with black hair tapped my shoulder.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked. I shook my head.

"Go ahead," I answered, turning back to the window.

"My name's Isabelle Lightwood, by the way," she introduced herself.

"Clary Fairchild," I said, shaking her hand.

"My name is Hans Reza and I will be your pilot tonight. Your co-pilot is Frank Schmidt. We are about to take off, so flight attendants will be around to make sure you are buckled in properly. in the meantime, please disconnect all cell phones and iPods. Thank you very much and please enjoy your flight," the pilot said over the speakers. I buckled my seat and Isabelle did the same.

"First time flying?" I asked her.

She looked really nervous. "Second time. My first was flying here. We were visiting my grandmother. How about you?" she asked.

"I've been flying since I was a baby. My first flight was when I was two months old and my parents decided to vacation in Italy," I replied.

A flight attendant with a Texas accent and brown air came up to us. "Hi, my name is Alexis and I will be your flight attendant. I'm here to make sure you are properly strapped in and offer you drinks," Alexis said cheerily. She pulled on our seat belts and pulled up her pad.

"I'll have a Coke," I said, smiling at her as best as I could. You had to give me a hand, for someone who just got disowned I was holding up pretty well. I couldn't feel anything, I was mostly numb. Once the plane landed the realization would sink in and I would break down in a taxi on the way to Simon's house.

"I'll have a Coke too," Isabelle squeaked. Alexis smiled and walked off to get our drinks.

"Deep breaths," I said to Isabelle, who seemed like she was hyperventilating into her purse. The plane started to take off. I reached into my purse and pulled out a pack of my favourite flavour of Stride gum, Eternal Melon. I popped a piece in my mouth and chewed.

"Here, Isabelle chew this. It'll help relieve the pressure," I said. She took the gum and started chewing. We took off into the air and my ears popped a bit. Isabelle sent a thankful gaze in my direction. I smiled back. She put the TV on and plugged her headphones in. Me, I was in too much shock to do that. I just slept, feeling giddy with adrenaline.

"We are now landing at the New York Airport. Please turn off all TV's and stay seated." I sat up and looked at Isabelle.

"Thank you, Clary. Without you I think I might've died up there," Isabelle thanked me. I just smiled at her. The plane landed gently and I got up and grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment. Now I had to catch a taxi to get to Simon's.

"Goodbye, Clary," Isabelle said, hugging me. She got up and walked to where her family was. I walked off the plane.

New York is gorgeous at night. Absolutely beautiful. The LaGuardia Airport was busy with people boarding flights. I went through the luggage check and grabbed my suitcase. I caught a cab on the main stretch. "Where to, Miss?" the cab driver said in his deep voice.

I gave him Simon's address and he looked at me surprised. Simon lived in the richer part of New York and I guess I didn't look rich. I used to be, but I was disowned by my incredibly rich father. Surprisingly, I didn't break down in the cab. I paid the guy with cash when I got to Simon's house. I rang the door bell.

A sleepy Mrs. Lewis answered the door. "Clarissa? I didn't know you were coming honey. Come one in," she opened the door wider and called over her shoulder for Simon.

My best friend Simon walked down the stairs, looking sleepy. His dark brown hair was mussed and his glasses on crooked. "Clary? What are you doing here?" he asked, dark eyes wide.

I couldn't speak. My throat closed up and a sob came from my mouth. All the events of yesterday came back to me all at once. I was disowned. I had no family. I was orphaned by my father, sent out. Tears poured down my face and I collapsed on the floor.

**okay it was a little short but what do you think? good story material? please review!**

**TC95**


	2. Meet the Lightwoods

**Hey! Thank you all so much for all of your fantastic reviews! I have never had a single chapter get that many reviews, especially in one day! You're all awesome. I am officially in love with this story even though I am only on the second chapter, so I m definitely going to continue it. This chapter is a little short, but I'm trying really hard to stick to the plot of this story so everything isn't completely crazy and half-irrelevant. I had it pointed out to me that the other Lightwood's weren't mentioned in the last chapter on the airplane. I'm going to fix that here: The Lightwood's went to visit Maryse's parents in a retirement home in Palm Springs, CA. ON the airplane, Max sat beside Maryse, Jace sat with Alec, and that left Isabelle out. Robert Lightwood stayed behind in New York because in this story he is a workaholic traffic lawyer and Maryse's parents aren't really fond of him. That is why Isabelle ended up sitting beside Clary. I would've had Isabelle mention her family, but I was focused on Clary helping Isabelle with her distress. I hope that clears everything up for you! I was also asked why Valentine disowned Clary. She's being really stubborn and refusing to think about the reason why, but in this chapter she slips up a bit and we have a flashback of her and Jonathan that will give clues to why her father disowned her. Okay, I hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you to all of you who read through this whole ridiculously long authors note.**

**Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the Mortal Instruments. All the characters are hers (I just named Simon's mom). The plot, however, belong s to me (I know I was shocked too, I actually**_**own**___**something!)**

**Without further ado, the chapter.**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey I got a few requests for me to redo the format of the first few chapters, so that's why you probably got a notification that I was reposting this. Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

2. Meet the Lightwoods

Clary PoV

I woke up to the sound of the toaster popping. I sat up with a start, arms flailing wildly. My hand connected with someone's face and I jumped.

"Ouch Fairchild," Simon said. I shifted my position on the couch to face him, remembering where I was.

"Shoot, sorry!" I apologized. I looked at Simon, who was rubbing his nose and fixing his glasses.

"Are you okay, Clary? What happened to you? Why are you here?" Simon asked. I pointed to my head.

"Si, people who have recently suffered mental breakdowns should not be bombarded with fifty million questions until 48 hours after their breakdown," I chastised.

Simon blushed crimson. "But, since I only had a _minor_ mental breakdown, I'll answer your questions," I smiled up at him.

He mimed wiping his forehead. "Yes, I'm okay. Well, _now_ I'm okay at least. I was just sorta numb yesterday, trying to put on a good face for the world. Valentine decided 'Hmm, I'm bored today. You know what would be fun? Kicking Clarissa out of the house!' and disowned me. So I hopped the first flight I could to New York," I explained.

Simon's brown eyes widened. "That asshole! How could he? You barely _just_ turned _sixteen_!" Simon fumed.

"Well, Si, he's Valentine Morgenstern, he has lunch with the president of the United States and has taken stars out to lunch to talk about the charges pressed against them. He can do whatever the hell he wants," I said bitterly.

Simon stroked my fly-away hair. "Clare, I have to go to school today and my mom just left for work about half an hour ago. Will you be okay here alone? Normally, I'd stay home, but I have a huge biology test today and—"

I cut Simon off. "And you don't want to fail. I get it. Go on, I'll be fine. I won't shatter into a bazillion pieces or commit suicide while you're gone. Oh and I won't murder anyone."

He kissed my cheek softly. If he was any other boy I would've blushed, but this was Simon. He always kissed my cheek. It was a Simon thing. "You're the best friend I could ever ask for," he said making me blush.

In all truthfulness, I wasn't. I wasn't anywhere close. Valentine didn't kick me out for nothing .I pushed those thoughts aside. I made a pact with myself not to think about the reason I got disowned. "The guest room is all yours, by the way. You sorta collapsed in here last night and we just moved you to the couch, but your bags are upstairs. Mom put new sheets on the bed for you. Oh and one more thing: Yossarian just got his shots yesterday so he's in a bit of a mood. Don't bait him," Simon warned. I smiled.

"Yossarian looooves me. He wouldn't dare bite me," I pointed out.

Si rolled his eyes. 'Whatever. Just do me a favour and keep him off the furniture. Mom freaked last time she came home and found him using her antique leather chair as a scratching post," Simon smirked at me. I rolled my eyes at him.

He disappeared into the kitchen for a minute and I heard pots clattering to the ground. When he walked back out he was carrying a huge plateful of chocolate chip pancakes covered in chocolate sauce with chocolate sprinkles.

"Clary comfort food," he announced. I smiled at him. Simon knew me too well.

"Chocolate milk?" I asked, hoping to catch him on a fault. He held up one finger and brought his hand out from behind his back, revealing a big glass of chocolate milk. He placed the huge cup in my hands adn balanced the plate on my lap. I took a bit of pancake followed by a gulp of chocolate milk. Simon stood in front of me, waiting for the verdict.

"Good job, Lewis. You didn't fail this time," I congratulated him.

He smiled brightly. "Okay Fairchild, I gotta go now. have a good day at home," he hugged me softly.

"Bye Simon. Don't fail your biology thing. Good luck!" I called. He locked the door behind him and I heard his car pull out of the driveway.

The Lewis's were rich. Stinking rich. They lived in a gorgeous Victorian mansion in the ritzier part of New York City. Simon's dad had died of lung cancer when Simon was five and his parents had been very concerned about Simon inheriting it. They used to think Simon actually did have the cancer, but it turned out to only be asthma, thank God. So they gave Mrs. Lewis a huge cheque to buy a house outside of the industrial district to make sure Simon was healthy and his asthma didn't evolve into something else. Simon's grandparents were the sweetest people, but they both died in a car crash a few years back and since Simon's father was their only heir, all of their money went to Simon and his mom. I finished my huge Clary-Comfort-Food breakfast and put my dishes in the dishwasher.

I walked up the stairs to the guest room. Simon's big grey cat, Yossarian, was sitting on the bed. He was actually Yossarian the Third, because Simon had two other cats named Yossarian before him. Simon's great and all but his creativity IQ is about 0.01. "Hey, Yossarian," I said, petting his soft head.

"Meow-ow," Yossarian meowed at me, rubbing his head against my arm furiously. "See, you love me, Simon doesn't know what he's talking about," I cooed.

Yossarian meowed at me. "Okay, now move your furry ass off my bed," I said, lifting the cat up. Yossarian was _heavy_.

"I think Simon's trying to fatten you up," I said. _Oh great I'm talking to a cat now_.

I sat down on the bed and stared at the mirror. The face that stared back at me was sallow and pale. I had dark shadows under my eyes, like someone who had a crappy sleep. Well, that made sense. I kept replaying that fateful scene in my head again and again.

_**Flashback**_

_ "Clary, I don't think we should be doing this," Jonathan said. I waved my hand at him. _

_ "I just want to see where he's been keeping my share of mom's money from her will. He owes me fifty thousand dollars. Don't be an asswad, Jonathan, keep that flashlight steady," I ordered. Jonathan shifted nervously and a box fell off the shelf. _

_ "Shit," he cursed and turned the flashlight off. We froze and listened for footsteps. "Dad must be out with his clientele. I don' t even know who he was out with today," Jonathan said. He turned the flashlight back on. _

_ I rustled through the paper in the top file cabinet. I pulled out a legal document. "What the hell?" I held it up to the flashlight. It was a marriage certificate. For a Valentine Morgenstern and a Paula Nightshade. Not a Jocelyn Fairchild. _

_ "Isn't that Dad's personal trainer?" Jonathan asked. I nodded numbly. _

_ "Yeah. She's on maternity leave, though. Her _fourth_ maternity leave in the past five years," I said. Jonathan's jaw dropped. _

_ "He's been having an affair for five years?" Jonathan asked incredulously. I swallowed. Dad had been having an affair. A freaking affair on my mother! For five years! I dropped the document._

_**End of Flashback**_

I mentally slapped myself. Bad girl, I scolded. Don't think of that. I had sworn to myself that I wouldn't think about that day. Ever. I shut the door to my bedroom and pulled my shirt off. I opened my suitcase and grabbed a green t-shirt that had a beaded design along the bottom. I slipped out of my jeans and put the cute demin leggings Maia got me for my sixteenth birthday on. I attempted to brush my hair, but gave up and eventually threw it up into a ponytail. I brushed my teeth in the guest bathroom and was about to turn my laptop on when the doorbell rang. I looked at the clock and saw that it was already eleven thirty.

I ran down the stairs to get the door. I opened it. "Hi, Mrs. Lewis— Clary? Clary Fairchild? From the airplane?" Isabelle stood at the door with her mouth open. I smiled at her.

"Yeah, it's me. Hi, Isabelle. Do you want to come in?" I asked her. She nodded and I stepped away from the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. I laughed at her shocked expression.

"Simon and I have been best friends since we were like three years old and we shared a mat in kindergarten for naptime," I told her. She smiled at me.

"No way. Did you live here before?" she asked. I shook my head and led her to the couch.

"No, no. Simon used to live in Palm Springs. Our mom's were friends in high school," I explained.

"That is so cool!" Isabelle started bouncing.

"Are you just visiting, or . . ." Isabelle asked.

I took a deep breath. "Hopefully I'll be living here. My father disowned me yesterday. That's why I was on the flight. My mom died when I was thirteen," I told her the story about Yellowstone National Park.

"You poor thing," Isabelle said. Suddenly another knock came at the door.

"That's probably my mom wondering where I am with the sugar I was supposed to be asking for," Isabelle guessed. I walked over to the door. A woman who looked exactly like Isabelle except with blue eyes was standing there.

"Oh, hello. I'm so sorry to bother you but is my daughter here?" the woman asked.

I nodded and Isabelle came to stand beside me. "Hi, mom! This is Clary, the girl I sat next to on the flight back to New York. Turns out she's best friend's with Simon who lives here," Isabelle told her mother.

Isabelle's mother looked surprised. "Hello Clary. Thank you for helping Isabelle on the plane. She's not very good at flying. I'm her mother, Maryse Lightwood. I sent her here to ask for a cup of sugar, do you know where it would be?" Maryse Lightwood asked.

I nodded and Isabelle handed me the cup.

I scooped a cup of sugar for the Lightwood's and put the sugar back. "Here you go," I said.

"Thank you dear," Mrs. Lightwood shook my hand.

"Hey, Clary, do you want to come over and help us bake the cake? It's my brother Max's ninth birthday today," she asked.

My breath caught in my throat. "I'd love to. Just let me grab the key and write a quick note to Simon," I said. I dashed into the kitchen. _Simon, I'm next door with Isabelle, don't worry, I took the spare key with me. __—__ Clary_, I scrawled on a sticky note. I grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and stepped into my green Sketchers.

Once we were all back outside, I locked the door. Isabelle and her mother led me across the lawn to their beautiful mansion. They opened the front door.

"This is gorgeous," I commented to Mrs. Lightwood.

"Why thank you Clary. I'm an interior designer," she said. The front room was painted a flawless cream and the furniture was a matching beige.

"Izzy, why don't you introduce Clary to the family while I go find the cake and butter cream frosting recipes," Maryse suggested. Isabelle nodded at her mother and grabbed my hand. We took our shoes off and Isabelle brought me to the basement.

Sound was coming from the next room over. "Alec, what are you doing? I was building a race car!" a little boy cried.

"Sorry, Max," a deeper voice apologised.

"He's got you wrapped around his finger, Alec." another voice said.

"It's his birthday, Jace," the deep voice said.

The other voice responded by laughing. "Chill Alec. I was joking," the voice that had laughed said.

Isabelle led me around the corner. "Boys," she said, holding the TV remote.

The little boy with brown hair and big blue eyes gave her the puppy dog face. "Izzy! No! I'm making a race car. Don't turn the TV off," he pleaded. He was so adorable.

"Fine, Max. Then save your level and put your characters in the Pod to pause it," Isabelle said. Maz pouted at her but did as she said. The boy with black hair followed suit. The blond one just lounged there.

"Guys, this is Clary. She's friend's with Simon next door," Isabelle introduced me. I waved at them.

The boys just stared, and I wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or really awkward. "Max, c'mon. Shake Clary's hand," Isabelle prompted.

Max shook his head, looking shy.

"She saved me on the plane. I'd have died without her!" Isabelle tried to reason with him.

"You should've let her die. It's your fault we were put through the torture of her making pancakes this morning," the blond one drawled. Arrogance just about poured off of him.

"Jace Lightwood! They weren't _that_ bad!" Isabelle walked over and slapped him.

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes and stood up. "Hi, I'm Alec Lightwood," he said, shaking my hand.

"Do you go to school here?" I asked.

Alec shook his head. "I graduated high school last year and I'm taking a year off before going to college," he explained and I nodded.

The blond boy stood up. "I'm Jace Lightwood, Isabelle, Alec, and Max's adopted brother. I'm senior at Cedar Ridge High School," Jace shook my hand.

I nodded at him and tried to keep my eyes locked to his golden ones instead of shying them. He smirked at me and sat back down. Arrogant asshat.

The little boy, Max I presumed, stood up. "I'm Max. It's my birthday today. Did you bring me a present?" the boy asked.

Isabelle started to scold him, but I held up a hand.

"No, but maybe I'll go buy you something later and bring it over tonight. What game are you playing?" I asked.

Max smiled hugely. "Little Big Planet 2," he announced looking smug. "It's _brand_ new," he bragged.

I smiled at him."Was this one of your birthday presents?" I asked him. He nodded.

"C'mon Clary, I think Mom's calling," Isabelle said, dragging me away from the little boy.

"He's cute," I said. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, until you have to live with him," she replied.

"Wait, if you guys go to school, why are you home today?" I asked. Isabelle bit her lip.

"We convinced my mom that we were tired from our late flight," she explained.

I laughed. "Devious, Isabelle Lightwood," I commented. She shook her head and led me upstairs to the kitchen.

Two hours later, we were all covered in flour, but the cake looked perfect. I let it slip that I liked drawing and Isabelle and her mom convinced me to draw a race car on the top of Max's cake in icing.

"He's going to love it," Mrs. Lightwood commented.

I had a brilliant idea. "Isabelle, do you have blank paper and some pencil crayons I could borrow?" I asked. I had the perfect idea for a birthday present for Max. Isabelle brought me a sheet of paper and a pencil case. I sat at the table and sketched a race car on the paper. I coloured it in fire red like the one Max was making on the video game.

"He's going to love it," Mrs. Lightwood commented. The phone rang and we all jumped.

"Hello, Lightwood residence, Maryse speaking," Mrs. Lightwood answered. "Oh Leanne! Yes, she's been here all afternoon. Yes, I can send her over. Okay, bye Leanne," Mrs. Lightwood hung up. "Clary that was Leanne Lewis, Simon's mom. Apparently you are wanted at their place. She said they have good news or something," Mrs. Lightwood told me.

I signed my name in the corner of my sketch. "Okay. Thank you for having me over, I had a lot of fun. Bye, Iz, Mrs. Lightwood," I said. I walked over to the front door and slipped my shoes back on.

Izzy gave me a hug. "Come back anytime," she said. I nodded and walked across the lawn to Simon's house.

I walked in and Simon and Mrs. Lewis were sitting on the couch. "I see you met the neighbours, Clary. Isabelle is such a sweet girl," Mrs. Lewis said.

I smiled at her. "Yeah, she is. Actually, I sat beside her on the flight from Palm Springs to New York," I told them. Mrs. Lewis gave me a smile.

"We have good news, Clary," Simon said. They both had huge smiles on their faces.

**Sooo, what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Please review! The faster you review the faster I write. Oh one thing: I'm going to a friend's cottage for the long weekend, so my next update probably won't be until Monday or Tuesday. Sorry about that! Tell me what you think, I love to hear all of your comments! And if you have any suggestions let me know! So, what do you think Simon and Mrs. Lewis are going to tell Clary? Oh and why do you think Valentine disowned Clary? Let me know what your guesses are! Okay, I'll try to update soon!**

**Love,**

**Tally Cullen95**


	3. News

**heyy! I hope everyone had a good weekend. I know I did. For those of us in Canada, the long weekend was amazing. Well, for me at least it was great. okay so here is the next chapter. thank you sooooo much to everyone who reviewed! the amount of reviews and reviews and subscriptions and favourite story emails I got was amazing! so a big thank you to everyone reading! you're all awesome! Okay I've kept you waiting long enough so this authors note is going to be short. I hope you enjoy this chapter. it was fun to write.**

**Disclaimer: I only own the plot of this story. the characters and Mortal Instruments series belongs to Cassandra Clare.**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey I got a few requests for me to redo the format of the first few chapters, so that's why you probably got a notification that I was reposting this. Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

3. News

Clary PoV

"We have good news for you. Very good news. Yes, _plural_," Mrs. Lewis said with a smile on her face. Simon was biting his lip and I knew that he was having a hard time keeping whatever this was a secret. He _sucked_ with secrets. Once, in Palm Springs, I told him that I was throwing a surprise party for my mom's 30th birthday and that he had to keep it an absolute secret, and the next day I found him in the kitchen, munching on a chocolate chip cookie, telling my mom _all_ about the party I was throwing her. Thanks tips.

"The first news is that Simon's sister Rebecca is getting married next week. Simon may have already told you this, but she wants to invite you. So that leads into my next set of news. Rebecca and her fiancé, Kevin, put the down payment on a beautiful house just outside of Buffalo, near the Canada-United States border. She found a steady teaching job there, and Kevin found a hospital in need of doctors. She said that you could have her room in this house. All of her stuff is in the basement, so they are coming to pick it up tomorrow and bring it to a storage area." Simon's mom explained and I gasped.

I actually have a place to _stay_? I hugged Leanne tightly. "Thank you so much, Mrs .Lewis !" I cried. She gently disentangled herself from my hug.

"Clary, please if you're going to live with us, call me Leanne. I have more news, though. I spoke to the principle of Cedar Ridge and explained your predicament. You see, Clary, especially in high school, you need to have your transcripts sent to the school you are transferring to. But since this was so sudden and you had no choice in the matter, Mr. Tarche said he would make an exception. Palm Springs High School is going to email him your transcripts. They are also going to send your old class schedule in and tomorrow you have an eight-twenty meeting with student services to set up your new schedule. I told him that this was all a maybe, but it's up to you whether you want to attend or not," Mrs. Lewis—Leanne told me. Simon had started chewing on his lip.

I smiled at Leanne. "This is going to sound strange, but I'd actually love to go to Cedar Ridge. Today you can't get any jobs without high school education," I said.

Simon opened his mouth to protest. "My cousin dropped out in Grade 10 and she got a full time job as a waitress in Los Vegas," he protested.

His mother laughed. "You mean Jezabel? I know she makes a lot of money from it, but you're not telling Clary half the story. Jez is a model. Being a waitress is her part-time job," Leanne explained.

I rolled my eyes at Simon. "Thank you so much for everything, Leanne! This is great!" I smiled up a her; hoping the smile I had on my face was sincere. I used to have a different smile for every occasion. One for when I was truly happy, another for when I was pissed off at someone but pretending to be happy. . . The list goes on and on. Lately they had all blurred into one. A half sad- half happy lifting of the corners of my mouth.

"Now I have a present for you," Leanne Lewis said. She patted the couch beside her and I sat down. Simon was perched on the other armrest. He looked like he was going to burst. Leanne handed me a rectangular package. I stuck my pinkie under a corner of the wrapping paper. I slowly pulled the wrapping off, watching Simon's face contort with the pain of the slow revelation.

I finally ripped the paper off to reveal a shiny new iPhone. "Oh. My. God. Is this for me?" I breathed out.

Leanne nodded. "Of course it's for you! I know for a fact that your cell phone is in Palm Springs still!" Simon exploded.

I laughed at his cherry-red face. "I love it. Thank you," I said.

Leanne rolled her eyes at her over-dramatic son and smiled at me. "Glad you like it. I'm making spaghetti and garlic bread for dinner. Sound okay?" Mrs. Lewis asked.

I nodded and she left. Simon was already beside me and had my iPhone in his hands. He opened the package and turned the phone on, handing me the charger and cable to connect it to the computer. He immediately went to the Contacts app and entered his phone number.

"Here's your plan information," Simon said, passing me a thick booklet. I made a mental note to look it over before I went to bed.

"So," Simon said casually, "I heard you went over to the Lightwood's place this afternoon?"

I nodded. "I met Izzy on the flight to New York. I 'saved' her from dying, apparently. All I really did was give her gum during take-off and kept her calm when we hit turbulent patches. She introduced me to her family, except for her father," I explained.

Simon's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. "_You_ are friends with _Isabelle Lightwood_? She's a goddess!" Simon's face turned beet red. I bit back a giggle. Simon, in love with Isabelle. Who'd have thought.

"Yeah. I guess. Not too sure about the goddess thing though. But I'm a girl, Si. She was really sweet and her family is great," I told him, laughing for real.

Simon rolled his eyes at me, then narrowed them. "Wait—you met _all_ of her brothers? Not _just _Max and Alec. You met the ass too?" Simon asked.

I nodded at him, confused. I was guessing that Jace Lightwood was the ass he was talking about. Leanne chose that moment to stick her head through the door.

"Who's an ass, Simon?" she asked her son. Simon bit his lip. He stammered out an incoherent sentence. Then her blurted out "Jace Lightwood!" Did I mention that Simon sucks ass at lying too?

"Simon Michael Lewis, I don't want to hear you talking about that poor boy like that again. You have no idea what he's been through," Leanne scolded, shocked by Simon's words.

He muttered an embarrassed "Yes, mom," and turned a deeper red than he was before. I was curious though.

And I wouldn't be Clary Fairchild if I didn't pry. That's what got me into this mess in the first place. "What happened to him?" I asked curiously.

Leanne gave me a hard look. Did she suspect that my curiosity is what got me disowned in the first place? "Clary, I know you are only asking because you care, and I would tell you honey, really I would, but Maryse asked me not to tell anyone," she explained softly.

I smiled at her. She didn't suspect a thing. If she did she'd have asked me about what had really happened for me to get kicked out. I nodded at her and stared at my hands.

"Anyway, I was coming here to tell you that dinner is ready. Wash up and come to the table," Leanne changed the subject.

Supper was delicious. I had forgotten what an amazing cook Leanne was. The dinner was all vegetarian of course and the garlic bread tasted like it came directly from a restaurant. Simon had been a vegetarian since he was like seven years old I think. He tried being a vegan last year, apparently, but that didn't work out too well. After dinner, we sat down in the living room with a fruit tray and watched reruns of Greys Anatomy and House. We watched TV until about eleven. That was when Leanne decided it was proper to go to bed. She really tries to be a good mother to Simon, but ever since Simon's dad died, she's been working a lot more and doing the 'mom' thing and the 'work' thing is hard for her.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. My stomach was a hollow pit and whenever I tried to breathe, all that would come out was a sob. Simon was sleeping soundly next door to me and Leanne was still puttering around downstairs, probably cleaning. I knew this would happen. Last night was a freebie, a teaser. It taunted me that I was able to fall asleep so easily last night. It also allowed me to not be dead-tired, like I otherwise would be. A tear slid down my cheek, leaving a cold trail of wet for other tears to follow. _C'mon Clary, you told yourself you wouldn't do this. We were going to be strong and put on a good face_, I thought. Who am I kidding? I wanted nothing but to cry and cry until my bed was soaked with tears. But I couldn't. I couldn't let Simon and Leanne know how miserable I was. They'd think it was their fault. And I couldn't let them think that. This time, the blame was all mine.

_**Flashback**_

_ "What are we going to do about Dad?" Jonathan asked. _

_ I shrugged, tears forming in my eyes. I blinked them back hard. "I don't know! You're the oldest! You should have some sort of back-up plan in place in case your little sister screws up like this!" I said, frustrated. _

_ Jonathan hugged me to his chest. "Shh-shh, it's going to be okay, Clary. Please don't cry," Jonathan whispered. He was the best brother ever. Sweet, kind, caring. _

_ I looked up into his beautiful, concerned eyes. "Let's not tell Dad about this. Don't let anything on. Pretend like nothing happened. Like we are clueless," I told him, wiping the tears from my eyes with my sweater. It was smudged with black. _

_ "Clare, look here. You look like you were playing with coal or something. Your mascara's all down your face," he said, licking his thumb and wiping my cheeks. _

_ "Thanks Jonathan. And yes, I do have a plan," I told him, smiling. _

_ He smiled back. "That's my little sis, " he said fondly._

_ I took a deep breath. "I've been doing research. About Dad, well his bank account at least. His bank pin is the same as the door code on his bedroom door. Mom told me that if there was ever an emergency to do that. Well this is an emergency. One of the highest degree. Dad likes you best, so do you think that you could get the bank card?" I asked Jonathan. _

_ He nodded. "Dad won't be back until later tonight. I could get the bank card now and we could drive to the bank," Jonathan told me._

_ "Amazing!" We high-fived and raced up the stairs. _

_**End of Flashback**_

Tears streamed down my face. I had let myself think about that fatal day and now the memories wouldn't stop. It felt like a heavy weight was being placed on my chest and was forcing me to visit memory lane. I struggled to stop the tears that streamed down my face. Another flashback hit me and I choked on a sob.

_**Flashback**_

_ "Let's use the drive through. I don't want to risk anyone seeing us and recognising Dad's card," Jonathan said, pulling up to the drive through ATM. _

_ I swiped Dad's car. "What's his PIN?" he asked, looking at me through his sunglasses. _

_ "345672," I recited. I memorized the PIN when I was six years old._

_ "How much do you want to take out Clarissa?" Jonathan asked me nervously._

_ I pursed my lips. I could just take the bare minimum, _or_ I could take more. Choices, choices. "I'll just take the fifty thousand he owes me. He was probably going to use it to buy a new Lamborghini or something," I told Jonathan. _

_ He nodded and pressed the buttons on the machine. _Warning: Your withdrawal is over $1000. Are you sure you wish to continue?_ The machine read. _

_ "Hell, yeah," I told Jonathan. _

_ He paused and my eyes widened. "Jonathan, wait a sec. Let's just transfer the money to my bank account. Press no and select the transfer button," I told him._

_ I took out my bank card and handed it to him. He hit transfer and the machine asked for my card and PIN. I recited my PIN to Jonathan and he punched it in. We went through the motions of punching in the amount and saying okay when it warned us about the amount of money we were transferring. The machine spit both cards out and I giggled, giddy with what we had just done. _

_**End of Flashback**_

After that memory, I fell asleep. Random images passed behind my eyes. Mom, Ex-Dad, Jonathan, Simon and I dressed up as Dipsy and Po for Halloween when we were two. Nice memories of Christmases and birthdays from before Jocelyn died. Classic memory lane stuff. I felt relaxed. Well, until my alarm went off. That scared the hell out of me. I jolted upright and all but slapped the off button in my clock. _Today is going to be completely different. I'm going to put on the best face ever for the world and be the old fiery Clary again that everyone used to love_, I told myself. I bounded over to the bathroom and stripped. I jumped in the shower and turned the hot water on, letting it loosen all of my stiff muscles.

After ten minutes in the steaming hot shower I dried myself with a towel and set to blow-dry my hair. Leanne had set a curler and flat iron in the bathroom. I was going to straighten my hair and then re-curl it in big loose waves. My make-up was in my purse, so once I was finished doing my hair and grabbed that and applied a bit of purple eyeliner and black mascara. I took a deep breath and looked through my suitcase. My stuff was still in the guest room, but I'd move into Rebecca's room tonight. I decided to wear a pale pink v-neck t-shirt that was a little long and a pair of super skinny dark wash jeans. I looked at my appearance in the mirror and tried out a smile. I tweaked it until it looked perpetually happy and welcoming, instead of sad and desperate. I slipped into my silver flats and sighed.

"Whoa, Clary. You look great!" Simon said when I got downstairs. He passed me a bowl and the box of Cheerio's.

I poured myself some and added milk. "I figured that I should probably look like I'm normal instead of someone who just got kicked out of their house," I told him.

Simon's eyes widened. "Well, you look awesome," he said and I blushed furiously. We ate breakfast in silence. Simon's mouth was too full to talk and I was lost in nowhere. I was focusing on thinking happy, care-free thoughts like a happy person.

When we finished it was eight on the dot. We both raced upstairs to brush our teeth and grab our bags. We were both lucky that Simon lived so close to Cedar Ridge. I threw some pencils and the notebooks Leanne had given me into my school bag and slung my purse over my shoulder. I was half way down the stairs when I remembered my iPhone and ran back up to get it.

"Ready, Clary?" Simon asked. I nodded at him and pasted on my smile.

"Yeah Lewis. Let's do this," I said. He started the car adn drove around the block.

**Soo . . . . . . what did you think? I absolutely love to hear your opinion! So my questions for you for this chapter are: 1. What do you think happened to Jace? AND 2. How do you think Valentine found out about Clary and Jonathan taking money from his account and finding about his affair? 3. what do you think is a good name for Jace's best friend? (no, it can't be Sebastien Verlac, I need him for something else . . . .) okay soooooo REVIEW! plz plz for me!**

**TC95**


	4. Girlfriends and Lacrosse

**Heyy! Here is Chapter 4! This chapter was soo much fun to write! It took awhile to write because I kept writing and then deleting what I wrote because I didn't like how it was flowing. I got requests for Jace's PoV so this chapter is alllllll Jace. hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own the plot, Cam, and Lexis, nothing else. The rest belongs to Cassandra Clare**

**AUTHORS NOTE (10/08/2010): I reposted this chapter because of a confusion with how old Jace was when he kissed Cam's sister Lexis. So Jace was in Grade 10 and Lexis was in Grade 9, so she's a year younger than Jace and Cam. Enjoy!**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey I had a couple requests that I fix the format of the earlier chapters so this is just me reposting them so it's easier for you to read. Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

4. Girlfriends and Lacrosse

Jace PoV

I don't know why I even bother to set an alarm. At exactly 7:00 every day my girlfriend calls. Same time, same reason. So when my phone my rang at exactly seven, I picked it up on the fifth ring and answered with a "Yes Kaelie, I'll see you at 8:30."

The person on the other end of the line snickered, so I got the feeling that they weren't my girlfriend. Kaelie never snickered; she just laughed her annoying hyena giggle.

"Jace?" the voice asked.

I sighed. "Kaelie usually calls at this time to ask for a ride. Before you ask, I'm not crazy and you don't sound like my girlfriend at all, and I can read just fine, thank you," I retorted.

The voice on the other end went quiet for a minute. "Oh, okay. That's good. I thought I was in the middle of you making . . . err, _plans_ with Kaelie. Phew. It's Cam, by the way," the guy said.

I rolled my eyes. Kaelie was always begging to make _plans_ with me. I never agreed. She was too whiny and pouty for me to take seriously. She was just a distraction until I found a hotter, more popular girl to be with. Hopefully the next one wouldn't be as whiny.

"I already told you I can read, White. And I would never make _plans_ with Kaelie, not even if she was the last girl on earth," I replied.

I heard Cam snicker again. Cameron White and I had been best friends since before the Lightwood's adopted me. We had had one fight in our whole friendship and that was because in Grade 9 he caught me making out with his younger sister Lexis. He was pretty pissed at me for that, but after I explained that she kissed me first he shifted his anger from me to her.

"Anyway, I was calling to let you know that Coach wanted me to let you know that we have a 7:45 practice this morning. He wants to decide on the captains and positions," Cam said.

I looked at the clock. "Thanks Cam, I love it when you give me thirty minute warnings before mega-practices," I said sarcastically.

"No problem, Lightwood. Whenever you want," Cam joked. I could picture him winking at me. He hung up and I set the phone down. I slid out of bed, wincing when my bare skin came in contact with the cool air.

It was a crisp March morning and frost covered my bedroom window. The blinding light shone through my open window. I could faintly hear my adoptive sister, Isabelle, yelling at Alec for taking too long in the bathroom. I personally pitied him. Alec's bathroom was being redecorated by Maryse, so he was being forced to share a bathroom with Izzy. The poor guy. Alec was working full time at the Starbucks around the corner as Assistant Manager and had to be at work by 7:30. Unluckily for him, between 6:30 and 7:30 was Isabelle's reign of terror over the bathroom.

He had offered to put in a good word for me at his work and try to get me a job there, but I refused. I was working part-time at the Under Armour outlet downtown and I was being paid by Coach Nightweather to coach a Boys Under 7 AA lacrosse team. Watching the six and seven year old boys running around happily, whipping Indian Rubber lacrosse balls at each other reminded me of how happy I was to be doing that at their age. It was annoying at first because they had no respect for authority, but I guess Coach decided to pay _me_ to do this job because he figured that I had no respect for authority either, so I'd be able to control them.

I walked across my room to the bathroom. The tile floor was cool under my bare feet. I'd take another shower after practice, but I needed one now to wake me up. We had just come March Break. Classes started yesterday, buy we had convinced Maryse that we were all too jet-lagged to go to school. Personally, I thought my March Break was crappy. Iz, Alec, and Max loved it, though. I guess that it would've been more fun for me if the people I was visiting were my actual grandparents.

Helen and David Nightshade were _not_ impressed to see me. To them, I was the biggest mistake the Lightwood's had ever brought home. And trust me, that means a _lot_. Alec and Isabelle were notorious for bringing stray animals home, especially when they used to stay in Palm Springs for the summer. Skunks, racoons, baby bears, foxes, you name it and Iz and Alec have probably brought it to dinner. The Nightshade's considered me worse than all of those incidents. to them, I was just the adopted juvenile delinquent. They lay down strict rules for the visit and I managed to break all of them within the first two days. Needless to say, I'm not very good at following the rules.

I took my boxers off and stepped into the shower. The cool spray woke me up as soon as it hit my skin. The spray of the shower fell on me like rainwater. It brought up memories that I preferred to keep buried, memories of the last time I was truly happy. I mean sure, I laugh at Cam's jokes and smile, but they're mostly forced. Most of Cam's jokes _are_ pretty funny, but laughing just doesn't feel natural anymore.

The Lightwood's adopted me when I was seven years old. That was the happiest and luckiest day of my life. My mother, Céline, died when I was five years old. My father, Stephen, was an alcoholic and a drug dealer. He concocted drugs in the basement of our small house just outside of New York City. he was always easily angered and would often strike out at my mother if she didn't cook his eggs the way he liked or if she asked him what he did in the basement all day while she was at work. Céline always covered it up by saying that he was stressed from his 'successful business'.

I shook my head, clearing it of those thoughts. I hadn't thought about Céline and Stephen since the Lightwood's adopted me. I cried myself to sleep every day for a year after they adopted me and Maryse always blamed it on herself. I hadn't cried since then and I wanted to keep it that way. I washed my hair and used the Axe body wash that Isabelle had given me for my birthday. According to my girlfriend, I made Axe smell sexy.

I turned off the spray and stepped out of the shower. I towelled my hair off and then wrapped the towel around my waist. My cell phone rang just as I was putting on a pair of jeans. I picked it up and answered.

"Hello?" I asked, forgetting to check the caller ID again.

"Jace-y baby?" my girlfriend asked. I rolled my eyes at the nickname.

"Yeah, Kaelie," I answered. I could picture her batting her long fake eyelashes. God, those things were so annoying. She'd always rub them against my cheek when we were kissing. Oh, and don't even get me _started_ on how she kisses. Disgusting.

"Jace, baby, can I have a ride to school? My car is low on gas again and I keep forgetting to fill up," she asked. I could hear the pout in her voice. It was more likely that she just wanted a ride than that her car was actually low on gas. She enjoyed scamming things. I never had her over anymore because she was always snooping through Izzy's stuff and stealing it. Normally, I wouldn't give a damn, but whenever anything goes missing _I_ get blamed.

"Sorry, babe, I have lacrosse practice today," I said. I hated her so much. I was planning on ending the relationship soon, but I didn't know how to. Kaelie's dad was the one who gave me the scholarship I wanted. If I broke up with his slutty 'baby-girl' he'd definitely take it back. I heard Kaelie giggle in her hyena laugh.

"Okay, baby. maybe I'll come by after, I love how hot you look after practice! Bye-bye Jace-y!" she hung up. I rolled my eyes again.

I shoved my phone into my school bag and threw a shirt and socks on. It was 7:25, so I was making good time. I slung my _Cedar Ridge Lacrosse_ jacket over my shoulder and picked my bag up. The Lightwood's house was a mansion. Every hall had a different theme that Maryse had designed. The mansion had been featured in a ton of home decor magazines and Maryse had been praised in as many magazines for designing other home interiors.

The hallway that my bedroom was connected to was themed around the abstract art hanging on the walls. It was like walking through a hall of Van Gogh and Picasso paintings in an art museum. I walked down the stairs, swearing when my phone started ringing. I dug it out of my bag and checked the caller ID. It was Kaelie again. _Screw it, she can leave a message on my voicemail_, I thought. I shoved the phone back into my bag and walked into the kitchen. Maryse was sitting at the table with her designs set in front of her.

"Oh, Jace, hi! Good morning," Maryse gave me a hug.

"Morning, Mar—I mean, Mom," I corrected myself. Maryse insisted that I call her and Robert 'Mom' and 'Dad'.

"You're down here early. What's up?" she asked. I grabbed a packet of Pop Tarts from the cupboard.

"Lacrosse practice," I explained, placing the Pop Tarts in the toaster and pushing them down.

Maryse nodded and went back to looking at her design plans. I walked to the front door and set my bag and jacket down. The toaster popped as I was walking back to the kitchen. I put them on a plate and poured a glass of orange juice.

"So, Isabelle said that you were complaining about having to see Kaelie again," Maryse said.

I nodded, my mouth full of strawberry Pop Tart goodness.

"Hmm, that girl is a little too clingy for her own good. Even though I don't approve of you dating a new girl every week, I'm starting to think you should really let that girl go. She came by yesterday while you were playing PS3 with Max and Alec and tried to leave with my diamond flower vase," Maryse Lightwood shook her head.

I swallowed and nodded again. I inhaled the second Pop Tart and washed it down with my glass of OJ. I waved a quick good bye to her and walked towards the front door. I shoved my feet into my shoes and picked up my bag and jacket. The keys to my Aston Martin DB9 Coupe were hanging on the little key hooks in the closet. I pulled my keys off their hook and walked outside.

The air was crisp but the sun was warm. It would be a good morning to practice, especially with the light breeze. My car was sitting at the bottom of the driveway. I punched in the garage code and the garage door opened. I spotted my lacrosse bag and stick. I unlocked my Aston Martin and hauled the bag and stick into the trunk. I opened the driver's seat door and sat down, twisting my key to start the engine. I put the car in gear and started driving towards Cedar Ridge.

Cedar Ridge was one of the nicest high schools in New York, apparently. We certainly had the best sport and academic reputations. Our lacrosse team had travelled to Europe last year to compete in the world lacrosse playoffs. We had won over all the other schools in North America, except for one school in Canada that had us tied and competed with us as part of our team. I parked my car and walked towards the front doors of the school with my school bag slung over one shoulder and my lacrosse jacket slung over the other. My lacrosse bag was in my hand along with the stick.

The locker room door was open when I reached it and I could hear voices inside so I knew I wasn't late. "Yo, Jace! Hey, how was Palm Springs?" Cam called from across the locker room. He was standing in front of his sports locker, tying up his cleats. I smirked and walked over.

"Pretty good," I drawled, "The weather was crap so none of the locals were in bikini's."

Cam looked upset. "Sucks. You promised me pics," he joked.

I shoved my bag into my locker and took my jacket off. "Sorry. I have a few pictures of Isabelle and Alec's grandmother in a bikini if you're interested in that," I replied. I only had the pictures because I had been sentenced to camera duty after I broke all of the Nightshade's rules.

"Sexy grandmother?" Cam arched an eyebrow as I started getting changed. I rolled my eyes. I snorted.

"Not in any way," I told him. He frowned.

I had finished putting my equipment on and was tying up my cleats when Coach Nightweather walked in. "Lightwood, I see you're back from California. I hope you didn't do anything stupid," Coach said to me.

I nodded at him. He smiled and started pacing. I sat down on the bench and placed my Under Armour Lacrosse lacrosse stick across my lap. "This season we are going to kick ass! That Canadian team will never know what hit 'em. But," Coach held up one finger, "in order to be successful, we need a captain to lead us. Today's main purpose is to pick a captain and co-captain. Does anyone have any ideas who would be a good captain?" Coach asked.

Kris Arbour raised his hand. He was one of the new ninth graders on the team. "I vote we have Jace Lightwood as our captain," Kris said.

I smirked at Coach. He knew this was going to happen, but he said that he wanted to give everyone a fair chance.

"Okay, everyone in favour of Jace Lightwood as your captain raise you lacrosse sticks," Coach ordered. Everyone in the team stuck their lacrosse sticks up. Including me. "Okay, Jace Lightwood is your captain for the third year in a row. How about co-captain?" Coach Nightweather asked.

I raised my hand. "I say Cam White should e my co-captain," I announced.

Cam blushed. Everyone erupted into cheers. "Okay, Cam it is. Now your new captains will lead you through practice; I have test papers to mark," Coach announced. He walked out to where he had set up a make-shift desk on the bleachers.

Practice went well. We ran laps for the first fifteen minutes to work on speed and then we practiced drills and plays. I was happy when practice was over though. As much as I enjoy physical exercise, my body was till used to relaxing in Palm Springs. I took a quick shower and got dressed before most of the team was out of the showers.

"You're in a hurry," Cam noticed, coming out of his shower.

"Well, today is Avoid Kaelie Until Lunch Day," I explained to Cam. He rolled his eyes as he towelled off and got dressed. Once we were both changed and ready, we walked up to the third floor to put our bags in our actual lockers and go to English.

We walked into the classroom like usual and I noted that it was really quiet. Usually I was jumped by Kaelie as soon as I entered the classroom. "Did she call you?" Cam asked, perplexed.

I nodded and took my Smartphone out of my pocket. I called my voicemail. Kaelie's pouty voice came on, telling me that she was sick and was going to stay home. I ended the call and stuck my phone back into my pocket.

"She's sick," I tried to sound upset, but the news had put me in a good mood. I could tell that cam was about to say something snarky, but Mrs. Starkwater walked in with a redheaded girl behind her. The girl was short, maybe 5"2 at the tallest. Her red hair blazed under the bright fluorescent lights.

"Class, this is Clarissa Fairchild. She is in Grade 11, but due to her last school being a private school, all of her academics are at a twelfth grade level. Please make her feel welcome," Mrs. Starkwater introduced. She motioned for Clary to take the empty seat on the other side of me where Kaelie usually sat. This was a huge improvement. My day just kept getting better and better.

**okay, so what did you think? let me know! i love your reviews!**

**xoxo**

**TC95**


	5. English and Art

**Hi! I am sooooo sorry that this chapter took so long to write! I double checked this for spelling mistakes as I don't have a beta right now, but if you catch any that I didn't please excuse them and know that I will try to do better with them for the next chapter. I hope that this slightly longer than usual chapter makes up for the wait!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**TC95**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey I had a couple requests that I fix the format of the earlier chapters so this is just me reposting them so it's easier for you to read. Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

5. English and Art

Clary PoV

"Hello, Clarissa. My name is Ms. Augusta. I am the head of student Services for Cedar Ridge High School. I must say, Miss Fairchild, your transcripts are very impressive. Your averages were over 90 every year in your last school," Ms. Augusta smiled.

She looked no older than maybe 24 or 25. I smiled wryly at her last comment. Having a father that physically abuses you if you get under an 80 on school matters is the ultimate motivator. Not that I told her that. No one but the Lewis's knew about that aspect of my life.

"The only problem with these transcripts are that your last school was a private school. There is nothing wrong with that fact, except that you have already learned all of the Grade 11 material," Ms. Augusta paused, letting me soak that in. St. Xavier's was the best private school in the country. I _knew_ my mother had ulterior motives for paying the massive tuition and sending me there. Maybe she _knew_ that this would happen and she wanted me to be able to get out quickly.

"Essentially, Miss Fairchild, you are set to graduate this year, so long as you take all Grade 12 level courses. In your private school, Grade 11 was the last year, was it not? You were going to graduate anyway. So I can set it up with your schedule that you still graduate this year," she finished.

My eyes widened— I hadn't thought of that possibility. Simon muttered something about me being a genius. I shook my head at him.

Ms. Augusta typed something into her computer and the printer started printing. She pulled the paper of the printer tray. "Here is your schedule. All of your courses are Grade 12 level, but everyone has third period for lunch so you can choose whether you want to hang out with your Grade 12 classmates or Ms. Lewis and his friends," Ms. Augusta explained. She handed me the schedule.

I had Grade 12 University English first period with Mrs. Starkwater. "I had her for Grade 9 English, she's a really good teacher," Simon commented, reading my schedule over my shoulder.

"Hey! Your locker's right beside mine," he noticed. I smiled at him. I was holding together pretty well, even though this was like absolute déjà vu from my first day of school in Grade 9 when Jonathan had said the exact same thing to me. _Hey! Your locker's right beside mine! That's so cool, sis_. I shook my head. Bad, bad, terrible, horrible, pact-breaking Clary, stop _thinking!_ Simon led me up the stairs to where our lockers were on the second floor.

"Here we are!" he said, leading me through a huge crowd of guys. A couple of them whistled as I pushed by and I just rolled my eyes.

I opened the locker I had been assigned to and shoved my bag in. I had English first and Art right after, so I assumed that I would need my laptop, spiral-bound notebook, sketchbook, art pens/ pencils, and a few regular pens for English. All of that fit in my laptop bag. I was about to put my schedule in my pocket when Simon snatched it out of my hands.

"Music, Clary? Since when do _you_ play an instrument?" Simon asked while I put my new lock on my locker and scribbled the combination on my arm.

"Umm, since _forever_. I've been playing flute since I was like, 4 years old. Don't you remember Simon?" I asked.

He flushed and looked at the ground. "I can show you where your English class is, it's right around the hall from my Biology class," Simon changed the subject.

"Ah the accursed Biology," I joked. Simon just rolled his eyes.

Turns out my English class was like right beside my second period Art class."That's lucky," Simon commented when I pointed it out. I smiled at him as he led me around the halls.

"I'll meet you at our lockers before lunch. You know how to get back there don't y—" Simon got cut off by the bell ringing to signal the start of classes.

"Shit," Simon swore, speeding up his pace.

The announcements were playing and according to Simon, our classes were on the other side of the school. Did I mention how _huge_ Cedar Ridge is? The announcements were finished by the time we reached my English class. The teacher was just about to walk into the room.

"Oh, you must be Clarissa Fairchild. Come on in and I'll introduce you," she said, so I assumed she was Mrs. Starkwater. Simon waved goodbye to me and started sprinting to his biology class.

I walked in behind Mrs. Starkwater, my face heating up when I saw everyone staring at me. "Class, this is Clarissa Fairchild. She is in Grade 11, but due to her last school being a private school, all of her academics are at a twelfth grade level. Please make her feel welcome," Mrs. Starkwater said.

"Clarissa you can go take the empty seat next to Mr. Lightwood," she said, pointing to the seat behind the blonde boy in the front. The boy looked very familiar and when I got a good look at him I recognized him to be Jace Lightwood, Isabelle's arrogant adopted brother.

Jace PoV

Clary. Isabelle's friend. Who knew, Isabelle actually had a _smart _ friend. I recognized the redhead immediately and I was pretty sure she recognized me too.

"So, I didn't know you were smart," I leaned over and whispered in her ear. She rolled her green eyes at me.

"Same to you," she said dryly. I just smirked at her.

"I'm the full package—looks, brains, and athletics," I said.

Cam elbowed me and I turned my attention to him while Mrs. Starkwater started writing the agenda for today's class on the black board.

"What?" I asked, slouching back in my seat.

"Who's she?" Cam asked, his blue eyes staring at Clary.

"One of Isabelle's friends. She's from Palm Springs and is living with Simon Lewis," I explained. Cam looked star struck. I had to admit, Clary was a nice change of scenery from Kaelie.

"Is she dating Lewis?" Cam asked, a little too interested in Clary.

"Hell, no. They're just really good friends or something," I said. Cam smile grew wider.

I knew that smile. It was the same type of smile I got when I had a new target. Cam was head over heels for Clary. I rolled my eyes at him and pushed his shoulder.

Mrs. Starkwater shook me a look. "So, I have a new project for everyone. You are going to write me a two thousand word paper on factors that made you the person you are today. You are also going to put together a five minute oral presentation for Friday. You have today and tomorrow as work periods," Mrs. Starkwater said, passing out a hard copy of the assignment instructions and expectations.

Ironic, isn't it, that on the thirteenth anniversary of my father losing custody of me and my mother dying, that the teacher wants to know the factors that made me who I am today. I relayed the irony of the situation to Cam who laughed.

"Holy crap, man. What luck for you," Cam laughed. I rolled my eyes at him, he was no help at all.

I turned to look at Clary, who was typing furiously on her laptop, looking like she was about to cry.

"You okay?" I asked her. I didn't really want to see her cry in the middle of class because Mrs. Starkwater would assume that somehow it was all my fault.

Clary closed her eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just have a lot to write about, I guess you could say," she explained. I gave her a small smile and turned to my own laptop. I had a lot to write about too.

Cam PoV

Damn. That Clarissa girl was _hot_. Her hair was the same red as a fire and her eyes were like emeralds. Mrs. Starkwater called Jace over to her desk and I took my opening to talk to _her_. "Hey," I said, leaning over Jace's desk.

"My name's Cam," I introduced myself. She smiled at me. She had such a cute smile.

"Hi, Cam. I'm Clary," she said. Her voice was _amazing!_ It was sweet and beautiful, and oh God, I'm obsessing now.

"So . . ." she said, at a loss for words. Or maybe she was just shy, being new and all. Suddenly an idea popped into my head.

"So, do you want someone to show you around the school during third today?" I asked on a whim.

She bit her lip. "Um, Simon _was_ going to show me, but then he muttered something about Eric wanting to have a meeting about band names or something during third and I wouldn't want to deprive him of that so, sure," she agreed. I declared a silent victory. Was Jace ever going to be mad when he found out what I was doing at lunch . . .

Someone tapped on Jace's desk, breaking me from my reverie.

"Ahem, Cam," Jace said pointedly. I sat up straight, my face flushed.

Clary started giggling on the other side of him, but when he looked her way she just stared at her laptop and started typing again. Great Jace, way to ruin everything. Jace sat down in his seat and gave me a pointed look.

"What did you do?" he asked, going straight for the kill.

I bit the inside of my cheek. To tell, or not to tell . . . "Cam," he said mock-strictly.

"Fine, I'm showing Clary around at lunch," I sighed. Jace smirked.

"No way. Because apparently I have three out of four subjects with her, so they want _me_ to show her around," Jace said.

My jaw dropped. "What?" I asked incredulously. Jace just shrugged, looking as nonchalant as ever. That was just Jace though. Nothing ever effected him.

I was probably the only person who knew the _real_ Jace Lightwood. The guy behind the asshole exterior. I known Jace since Junior Kindergarten, when his last name was still Herondale and Céline was still alive. Back when things were simple and all we used to fight about was who was going to get the last cookie at snack. You know how sometimes you meet someone and you just . . . _click_? Well that was Jace and I. From the first moment we met when the teacher assigned us to sit at the same table, Jace and I had just become friends. No awkward "Hi, my name's Cam and I like the colour green," introductions. We just both decided that we wanted to dump all of the crayons out on Eliza Dreye's head at the same time and then blame it all on Kara Goode. I know, we were so nice.

I was about to make a comment on the fact that he never did what he was told when Mrs. Starkwater called me. "Mr. White? Can you come over here for a minute?" Mrs. Starkwater called. I nodded gravely and stood up. This was probably about the fact that I failed the last test on that Shakespeare play . . .

"Mr. White, I was looking over your schedule and it appears that you have every class except for fifth with Miss Fairchild. I was thinking that between you and Mr. Lightwood, sorry, you could show Clarissa around the school and help her catch up in her subjects," Mrs. Starkwater said.

I nodded, trying to look as nonchalant as Jace always did but probably failing miserably. I turned around and walked back to my desk. I made sure to give Jace a huge smirk before staring at the blank word document on my laptop.

"What? Is Starkwater giving you a retest on that play or something?" Jace asked, referring to the Hamlet test I failed. I shook my head and kept my eyes glued to my laptop screen, knowing that if I decided t look at Jace my eyes would give everything away.

"Apparently I have three out of four subjects with Clary, too. Starkwater told me that she thinks we can show Clary the whole school and get her caught up in the courses," I said, eyes still on the laptop. Jace shook his head at me and returned his gaze to his laptop.

Clary PoV

Cam seemed really nice. Not to stuck up, smart, funny. When I agreed to let him show me around at lunch his whole face lit up and he zoned out for a minute . Now they were both talking about me. I focussed my attention on my essay and not on eavesdropping on Cam and Jace. _There are many factors that contributed to the person I am today_, I wrote, trying to think of a nice way to say that my ex-father was an ass and disowned me.

_One of those factors is the fact that my mother passed away when I was thirteen_, I typed quickly, trying not to dwell on the words. I wrote the whole story of painting in Yellowstone Park and the bears, all the way to the grief counsellor in the hospital. _But the greatest factor of all is an event that happened on Sunday night. I had been out for the day at an art class taught by one of my mom's artist friends at their gallery. I got home about an hour later than I said I would because of traffic and when my father was waiting at the front door for me, I assumed it was about that. he was holding a thick manila envelope in his hand and waving it around at me. What happened next deserves a lot of explaining on my part_, I wrote. The words were flowing easily now and even though it pained me to relive those moments, it felt good to get all my anger out through writing.

_My mother's will was read at her funeral by one of her lawyer friends. It stated that I, Clarissa Morgenstern, now Fairchild, would receive 50, 000 dollars in U.S currency when I turned sixteen. My sixteenth birthday was last August and my father, Valentine Morgenstern made no move to give it to me, even when I called him out on it in front of his very important celebrity clients. My brother, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, helped me to go through our father's files to see if he had any record of spending the money or a bank account created to house it_, I typed. This essay was a lot easier than I thought to write. A quick glance over my shoulder showed that Cam was staring at me . . . again. I have to admit, he's pretty cute. He's got gorgeous, curly, mahogany brown hair and twinkling blue eyes that are the same shade of icy blue as the winter sky in the arctic.

I was actually looking forward to having him show me around. It felt nice having a cute guy offer to show me around and sort of reminded me of my last boy friend, Mark, who moved away to Paris because his modelling career took off and his mom was opening up a new art gallery there. I shook my head to clear those thoughts and looked at the clock, which showed that I still had about fifteen minutes left of class. I turned my thoughts back to my laptop. _We didn't find any money or bank documents. Jonathan and I found something much more disturbing. Something that could ruin our father if showed to the wrong person. We found a marriage certificate dating back to 2005 stating the marriage of a Mr. Valentine Christopher Morgenstern and Ms. Paula Renée Nightshade, and _not_ to a Ms. Jocelyn Elizabeth Fairchild. I would also like to point out that in the last five years, Paula has had 4 pregnancies. _

I took a deep breath before writing the next part. I decided to skip over the whole bank scenario. _My mother died in 2006, one year _after_ this marriage. You are probably wondering by now how this relates to this assignment. Well —_ I stopped typing, deciding that I'd done enough for today.

Jace took this opening to lean over and whisper: "You seem pretty into this assignment. I'm impressed. I honestly didn't think that my sister had it in her to find an intelligent friend."

I just rolled my eyes at him. "I didn't think you had it in you to admit that anything impresses you," I shot back.

He feigned a hurt expression. "A lot of things impress me," he drawled, running his fingers up my arm. Being the easy-going person I am I just gave him a playful shove, ignoring the tingling feeling his fingers left behind. "So, I'll see you at lunch. Cam and I are going to give you a little tour," Jace said, shoving his laptop into its case.

"Can't wait," I replied dryly, putting my own laptop into its case.

The bell rang about two seconds later and as I was just heading out the door, someone draped their arm over my shoulder. "What the— Oh , hi Cam," I said, realizing whose arm it was.

"Hey, who'd you think I was?" he asked. I shook my head.

"What class do you have next?" I asked him.

He smiled warmly at me. "Art. I've been assigned to help you catch up," he said and for a second I wondered how he knew I had art. "Starkwater was looking over our schedules are found out that we have like, every class except for sixth together," he explained, reading my expression.

"Ahh, I get it. What do you have sixth?" I asked him, presuming he already knew that I had music.

"I have a spare. That's where Jace is headed this period," Cam replied.

We walked into the art room and Cam introduced me to the teacher, Ms. Graymark. "This is Clarissa Fairchild, she just transferred here," Cam told the teacher, whose jaw dropped when she heard my last name.

"Are you, by chance, the daughter of Jocelyn Fairchild?" she asked. I was surprised, not many people recognized me to be her daughter. I nodded and smiled at her.

Cam grabbed my arm and led me to a desk. "We just started studying your mom's works. Ms. Graymark is a _huge_ fan of your mom's art," Cam said.

I opened my mouth to say something when Ms. Graymark started talking. "Good morning class. Yesterday we took a note on the early life of Jocelyn Fairchild, an artist who passed away several years ago. Today, I will be handing out photocopies of some of her most famous art pieces for you to try to copy onto your canvases," she said, smiling hugely at us.

She had a thick stack of laminated, full-colour miniature photocopies of some of my mom's paintings. When she got to my desk so stopped and signalled for the class to be quiet.

"Class, this is Clarissa Fairchild, Jocelyn Fairchild's daughter. She just transferred here from Palm Springs," Ms. Graymark said. Everyone stopped talking and stared at me.

Ms. Graymark then placed a laminated paper on my desk and moved on. I flipped mine over, knowing that I would never be able to recreate any of my mother's paintings perfectly like the teacher probably expected. I took a deep breath as I saw that the painting she wanted me to recreate was the one that cost my mother her life. _Yellowstone Reverie_ was the title of her last masterpiece. The original copy was sitting in the guestroom at Simon's house, but it had before been copied so museums and art collectors could purchase it. I looked over at Cam to see his assignment. He got one of my all-time favourites, _Parisian Sunset_. I remembered when my mom had painted that one. I had wanted to name it _A Night in Paris_, but my mother claimed that it was too long for her taste.

"This has got to be hard for you, seeing as she's dead and all, but I'm sure your painting will be amazing," Cam said, sketching the Eiffel Tower on his canvas.

"Thanks," I said, closing my eyes to get myself focussed. Whenever I sketch I have to do this half-meditating thing where you clear your mind of all emotions and then pick one that you want people to feel when they see your artwork. My mom taught me that when I was five. I focussed on all of my happiness for this painting, wanting to portray how this painting should've turned out.

I started moving my pencil along the canvas, remembering how at ease my mother was when she started painting it. The strokes started light and happy, then as the bear cubs came closer to the thirteen-year-old me, the lines became stiffer more hurried. I decided to make all of the lines smooth and soft and make the essence of the painting a little bit happier and softer hued. I sketched the trees slightly bent over from the wind and the lake with slight ripples, obscuring the reflection. The focal point of this painting was the one pink lily in the middle of the trees. My mom liked to appreciate the smaller things in life. If this was my painting I would've picked the lake or trees as my focal point instead of a tiny flower.

I tuned out everything around me and just sketched, refusing to think of this as the painting that cost my mother her life. "Oh, my God, Clary. That's amazing!" Cam exclaimed, looking over my shoulder.

I blinked once to clear myself from my reverie. "Thanks. Yours is great too. _Parisian Sunset_ is one of my personal favourites," I commented.

Cam blushed at my compliment. "She'd be proud of you, you know. For being able to recreate her last painting like this," Cam told me, his arctic-blue eyes warm and smiling.

"Thanks. This is how the painting should've looked. Not rushed and stiff, but effortless and flowing like the rest of her paintings. That was my fault though," I admitted to him, lowering my head in shame.

"Clary, that incident was _not_ your fault. Even if you were there, there would've been nothing you could do to stop it," Cam tried to comfort me.

"You don't know the half of it," I said, my eyes tearing up. Cam shot Ms. Graymark a look and pointed to the door.

"Here, let's go outside Clary. Class is done in ten minutes anyway," Cam said, leaving me for a minute to put our easels and supplies away.

I slung my laptop bag over my shoulder and allowed cam to lead my out into the hallway and from there outside to the gardens. We sat down on a bench and I told him the whole story of how _I_ teased the bear cubs and got her killed, breaking into sobs halfway.

"Clary, it's okay. What happened with the bears wasn't your fault. Everything happens for a reason," he said calmly.

"How can you know?" I asked, wiping underneath my eyes to make sure my mascara and eyeliner weren't smudging.

"I just do," Cam said, crushing his lips to mine and pulling me onto his lap. I stuck my hands in his soft hair as we kissed. The kiss was soft at first, tentative on both ends, but it heated up and became more passionate and desiring. Cam rubbed my back through my thin shirt and I softly ran my fingers through his hair.

Someone coughed loudly behind us and asked: "What the hell?"

**Ta-da! So what do you think? Love it? Hate it? I will try t update as soon as possible but it looks like I am going to have a busy weekend ahead of me, so I will probably update on Tuesday, maybe Monday if I get lots of reviews. So tell me, what do you think of the whole Cam and Clary thing? (Don't worry Clary and Jace fans, that will come eventually, Jace still has to get rid of Kaelie) and who do you think interrupted their passionate (at least I hope it seemed passionate) kiss? REVIEW!**

**xoxo,**

**TC95**


	6. Emails and Menuett's

**Hey, I'm back! I apologize for making you wait so long. That was completely my fault. I have had such a busy week. The first half of it, my computer was out of order because I needed a new hard drive and the second half I was babysitting and hanging out with friends. The will be my last update before school starts up again because I'm leaving for a cottage tomorrow morning. To clarify some of the things that happened during art class in the last chapter, they are studying Clary's moms art work because yes, she is incredibly famous. Hope that clarifies. okay so on with the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey! I got a bunch of requests for me to fix the format of the earlier chapter of this story so that's what this 'update' is. Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

6. Emails and Menuett's

Jace PoV

"What the hell?" I said harshly.

Cam and Clary froze mid-kiss and turned slowly. _Caught in the act_, I thought.

I shook my head. "Whoa Cam, you move _fast_," I commented, noting his blush.

Clary, on the other hand, looked enraged. She shot me a glare and turned back to Cam. I could see that her eyes were red and puffy, more likely from tears of sadness than tears of joy from being kissed by Cam.

"What'd you do this time Cam?" I asked, shaking my head in mock disappointment.

"Kissing," Cam said, sounding self-satisfied. I rolled my eyes at him.

"No shit. Really?" I replied sarcastically.

Cam smirked at me; his smirk was becoming almost a replica of mine, I taught him well.

Clary shifted so that she could glare at me some more. I noticed that her make-up was a little smudged, again from crying. I gave her my best 'asshole who doesn't give a damn' smile, as Isabelle likes to call it. I'm pretty sure that just made Clary's glare deepen, but I might as well keep up my appearance. Cam was looking around with his 'this is awkward' face on. Damn right this was awkward. Almost as much so as the time he found me pinned against a wall by his sister.

"So, we still all on for lunch?" Cam asked, trying to relieve the tension.

I shook my head, feigning disappointment.

"Nope," I popped the 'p'. "Gotta pick up my girlfriend. Apparently she couldn't come in this morning 'cause she had the cramps or something," I said.

Those were her exact words when I called her five minutes ago. _"Jace-y, I had the cramps this morning and you know it hurts me even more when I drive like that. But they're gone now. Could you pick me up at lunch?"_ I shuddered at the memory. Maybe Maryse was right, I should dump her. That was a first, me taking advice from my adoptive mother. I ignored her advice all the time, especially when she tried to suggest me getting a job at the music store around the corner. I played piano for no one but myself.

"What are you doing here, Jace? Shouldn't you be picking Kaelie up?" Cam asked pointedly.

I smirked back at him. "Figured I'd be a good person and let you know that I was going to disappear. But now, I don't think you'll miss me much. Don't have a clue why I'd think that, though," I replied, turning around and walking towards the parking lot.

I could hear Clary mutter "Ass," under her breath.

I turned around and shot her my signature Jace Lightwood smirk. "You like my ass, Clarissa? Better not tell Cam, he might get jealous. Don't worry, it's our little secret," I called to her, fully aware of Cam being within listening distance and shaking his head at me.

I made my way towards my car in the parking lot, unlocking it once I arrived. I sat in the driver's seat and turned the radio on. I fiddled with the dial while I waited for an opening in the steady stream of cars driving past the school parking lot exit. I was trying to find a station that Kaelie wouldn't complain about. I finally found one that she would half approve of. At the moment, Katy Perry's _E.T._ was playing. I turned the sound down and rolled a window open, letting the cool breeze in. I finally drove into an opening in the seemingly endless flow of cars. I drove down the road, thinking about where to take Kaelie. I knew that she'd object to most of the restaurants along this strip. Starbucks, not her style for lunch (she likes her morning latte's from there though). McDonalds, too fatty (agreed). Greek food, too garlicky (again, agreed). Italian food, too much carbs (what the hell? It's just _past_a).

I turned right onto her street and looked for the biggest house. Kaelie's dad is the Dean of NYU so their house was almost as large and ornate as the Lightwood's mansion. The main reason I didn't really want to dump her was because her father gave me a scholarship to NYU (even though my 85 average is slightly lower than what they usually admit into NYU) so we could be together in university. A first I think I was thrilled, but that was before I really knew how clingy and whiny Kaelie could be.

I pulled into their driveway and walked up to the front door. I rang the doorbell, knowing that Kaelie was probably listening to her crappy pop music and chatting on Facebook. I could hear the noise from in the house cut off and high heels clicking across the floor. The door opened to reveal Kaelie, dressed in a tiny miniskirt and a see-through white top. On any other girl, this would get my attention, but on her it looked like she was trying _way_ too hard.

"Hi, Kaelie. Sorry I couldn't pick you up earlier. I had lacrosse practice. I got chosen as captain again and Cam is co-captain. I was thinking we could go for lunch at that little café across from where I work, Taki's ," I told her, internally cringing when she squealed her compliance.

I unlocked the car and opened her door for her. I climbed in on the driver side and started the car. Kaelie took o0ver control of the radio and switched the channel because apparently she thinks that Eminem is tacky and a poser. I was going to say something about her being tacky, but stopped myself. I planned on keeping that scholarship. I drove her to the restaurant and we sat down in a booth. A waitress wearing a pink apron and clutching a little pad of paper and pen came to our table to take our orders. Usually, Maria (the waitress) and I would talk a bit while she was making my usual, but she gave me my space today, just taking our orders and leaving us to talk.

Kaelie attempted to keep a steady flow of conversation going, centered around how she was going to Florida for a dance competition over the weekend and wanted me to go with her. I declined, saying that I had to work and coach, which was partially true. Maria brought us our food and we ate in near-silence, Kaelie stuffing her face with a chocolate ice cream sundae (something to do with it relieving her cramps and being worth the calories) and me staring out the window and eating my sweet potato fries and drinking my Coke.

Once we were finished, I paid the bill and gave Maria a tip. I wondered randomly how Cam's lunch went with Clary. Probably better than mine. The four of us (Cam, Clary, Kaelie, and I) all have Calculus together. We were having a quiz today on the material learned before the March Break. My thoughts ran to my music test today. I had to play four songs (3 classic, one modern) for the class as my mid-semester project, worth almost a quarter of my final grade. I was on autopilot, just driving towards school, not listening to anything around me. The roads were practically abandoned.

"—doing for the music thing?" Kaelie was asking. I looked over at her. _Music thing? _I thought. Than it clicked . I had told Kaelie about my music assessment during lunch.

"Bach's _Menuett G dur .114_, Joplin's _The Entertainer_, and Chopin's _Fantaisie-Impromptu_, and Hedley's _Perfect_," I told her, pulling into the parking lot. Kaelie gave me a little smile.

"I loooove _Perfect_," she whispered. I parked the car, ignoring her.

Kaelie leaned in and kissed me and I pretended it was fun, putting my arms around her. No spark anymore. That only lasted one day, a new all-time low. I broke the kiss and slipped my arm around her shoulders. We walked to our lockers and then to class.

Clary PoV

Jace is an asshat. Asshole. Asswad. Ass-whatever. Take your pick, he's all of those. My main question though, is why the hell could I think of no one else all through lunch. Cam led me to class and I went up to talk to the teacher, who told me about a quiz. Calculus was one of my better subjects. I hated it, but I was good at it. The teacher, Mr. Grae, handed out the quizzes and told us to start. I allowed myself to become tangled in thoughts of numbers and formulas. The quiz took me about half the period, which was shorter than it took the majority of the class. I handed it in and Mr. Grae gave me instructions to work on other school-related material. I snorted internally at the thought.

I pulled my laptop out and checked my emails. I had one from Maia, asking me where the hell I was. Another was from my art teacher, wishing me the best of luck wherever I was. There was even an email from Aline, inviting me to a party she was hosting this weekend. I sent her an email back declining and explaining that I was in New York with a friend for a few weeks. To Maia, I sent the same explanation (staying with a friend in New York) but I told her I'd call her tonight with the real story. Ah yes, the delicious tale of Valentine Morgenstern who can do no wrong and how he cruelly sent his only daughter out onto the streets because she took money that was rightfully hers from him and uncovered an affair he was having. Maia's mom was a news anchor, if I wanted to story could be all over the news in a day. Mrs. Roberts _loved _ me.

Just as I sent that one, another email came in. The sender was unknown. I opened the email, curiosity getting the better of me. _Clarissa Fairchild. I know what you did. Don't worry, this story will make the news. But not in the way you hoped. Pick your friends wisely, because they might not live until tomorrow. First the Lewis's, who have kindly decided to take you into their care. Next the Lightwood girl who you sat next to on the plane. Then maybe your boyfriend, Cameron White. Choices, choices. You can choose one person who you wish to live, don't bother responding to this email. I'll know who you chose. Yours truly, S******** ***l**_

I shuddered reading that. I had no idea who could've sent it. Except that they knew who I was staying with and that I sat with Isabelle Lightwood on the plane and was sort of dating Cam White. Who the hell was S******** **l**? I guess it would be easier if I knew more people at the school. I heard the bell ring and numbly packed up my things. I had music next with . . . Jace. I found him walking with a tall blonde girl and looking distracted. I walked up to them and nudged him, very conscious of the fact that I was only 5"2 compared to their height.

"Hey, Jace," I greeted, feeling numb again. He looked down at me and the girl on his arm paused mid-sentence to glare at me. Her eyes were like green daggers.

"Clary, this is Kaelie, my girlfriend. Kaelie, this is Clary. She's living with the Lewis's right now," Jace said, sounding tired.

Kaelie continued to glare at me. "How old are you anyway? You look like you're five," Kaelie said, sounding like _she_ was five.

I tried to keep a straight face. "I'm sixteen. I went to a private school in Palm Springs and I'm graduating this year," I told her.

I got the pleasure of watching her attempt to cut off the circulation in Jace's arm. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Jace disentangled himself from Kaelie.

"Come with me, Clary. I'll show you where the music rooms are," he said, his eyes urging me to agree. I figured I'd save him this once.

"Sure Jace, since it's my first day and all," I agreed. He smiled at Kaelie and I gave her a little wave. We walked to my locker than his in silence, me thinking about the email. When we got to the music room and went to the front to talk to the music teacher, Ms. Viola.

Jace PoV

I sat at the piano and played a few scales to warm my hands up. I played the first few bars of each song to get into the feel of each. I took a deep breath and summoned up my usual cocky demeanour. I was the only one on the piano and the rest of the class was either tuning their instruments or getting a new reed because they chipped theirs. Clary had gone with Ms. Viola to the instrument room.

She came out with a small case and sat next to me. "You know, I never pictured you as a piano person," she said.

I smiled at her. "I've been playing ever since I turned three. My mother wanted me to learn the piano because it was her favourite. I can also play the guitar," I explained.

Clary opened her case and started to assemble a flute. "Well, I play the flute. My father insisted that I learn it. I used to compete at talent shows but I haven't played for weeks. I always wanted to learn guitar," she said.

I never pegged her as a musical person. I knew she was an artist because I recognised her last name. My mother used to be a huge collector of Jocelyn Fairchild's art and I knew that the last name wasn't common at all. Ms. Viola began to call people up to play. Linnea Smith was called up first and she played her songs. I ignored her trumpeting and studied my sheet music.

"Jace Lightwood!" Ms. Viola called. I wheeled the piano to the front and pulled out the sheet music for _Perfect_. I placed my fingers in the correct positions and placed my foot on the pedal lightly. I began playing letting myself forget about everything but the music. I closed my eyes and pictured the notes in my mind, letting the current of notes sweep my away.

The song finished and I opened my eyes to see a few of the girls staring at me, as if in a daze. I continued to the next song, _Menuett G dur .114_, one of my mother's absolute favourites. I played through it, trying to not make the song too overly emotional. I played the next two songs and then stood and waited for Ms. Viola's verdict.

"Beautiful, Mr. Lightwood. 10 out of 10 for all of them. You are the perfect example. Thank you. Clarissa Fairchild, would you like to come up and play us something. I know you didn't have anything prepared but I would love to hear you play something," Ms. Viola said.

Clary nodded and stood up. She walked up to the front of the room and put the flute to her lips. She played softly at first, testing the waters. Then she jumped in, weaving together intricate melodies. The way that her fingers danced across the flute was mesmerizing. I became entirely focused on her playing forgetting the rest of the world. Her music was spectacular, amazing, beautiful. She stopped playing as the song wound down and I was brought back to reality. Clary just smiled and bowed her head modestly as Ms. Viola showered her with praises. I was speechless.

**What did you think? Good? Great? Amazing? I am sorry that Jace decided to go all soft at the end but the Jace we all know and love will appear again in the next chapter. So, who do you think S******** ***l** is? Reply with your answer! Also if anyone is interested, I am currently looking for a beta for this story so if you're interested, PM me. One more thing: What do you think of CamxClary? Don't worry, ClaryxJace will be coming soon, I promise. For anyone reading my other story, Forever, I will be updating that once I get back. Sorry for the advertising down here. Anyway, REVIEW for me!**

**TC95**


	7. Work and Play

**Hey! I updated! I would like to send out a big shout-out to my brand new BETA rozahath! She is awesome and beta-ed this chapter! She did an awesome job so I'm sending out a huge THANK-YOU! This chapter gives you more insight to Jace and develops Clary's life in New York a bit more. You also get to meet the team of seven-year-olds Jace coaches and see his soft side, which I think is really sweet, and I like bad-ass Jace as much as the next person. So without further ado, I give you chapter 7 . . .**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**Authors Note (20/12/10): Hey! I got a lot of requests that I redo the earlier chapters so the format is more readable, so that's why I'm reposting this! Happy Holidays/ Merry Christmas!**

7. Work and Play

Jace PoV

_I don't like Clary. I don't like Clary._You know how you have some thoughts that you try to shake off but stick in your mind like they were glued there? Well, that was one of them. Ever since that song in music, I can't stop thinking about her. _Bad Jace. She's dating Cam. You know, Cam, your_best friend_? Yeah, well_she_is dating_him_. You don't even have the right to think about her . . . SHUT UP MIND!_ Stupid mental rants. I slammed my car door as hard as I could. I had to take a few deep breaths before starting the engine. I put on my sunglasses and turned on the radio until the sound hurt my ears. I didn't really give a damn what was playing, as long as I could blast it and not have to think.

_If I could write you a song, and make you fall in love, _

_I would already have you up under my arm._

_I used to up all of my tricks,_

_I hope that you like this._

_But you probably won't,_

_You think you're cooler than me._

_You got designer shades,_

_Just to hide your face and you wear them around like you're cooler than me._

_And you never say hey, or remember my name. _

_It's probably cuz, You think you're cooler than me._

_You got your hot crowd,_

_Shoes on your feet ,_

_And you wear them around,_

_Like they ain't shit. _

_But you don't know,_

_The way that you look,_

_When your steps Make That Much Noise._

_Shh. See I got you, _

_All figured out,_

_You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen._

_Girl, you're so vain, _

_You probably think that this song is about you. _

_Don't you? Don't you?_

_If I could write you a song, _

_And make you fall in love,_

_I would already have you up under my arm. _

_I used to pull all my tricks,_

_I hope that you like this. _

_But you probably won't, _

_You think you're cooler than me. _

_You got designer shades, _

_Just to hide your face and_

_You wear them around like, _

_You're cooler than me. _

_And you never say hey,_

_Or remember my name. _

_It's probably cuz,_

_You think you're cooler than me. _

_You got your hot crowd,_

_Switching your walk,_

_And you don't even look when you pass by._

_But you don't know,_

_The way that you look._

_When your steps make _

_That Much Noise._

'_Cooler than Me'_ by Mike Posner was playing and I turned the radio up louder because it was one of the only pop songs that Kaelie liked that I could stand and actually sorta liked.

_You got designer shades,_

_Just to hide your face and _

_You wear them around like, _

_You're cooler than me. _

_And you never say hey, _

_Or remember my name._

_It's probably cuz,_

_You think you're cooler than me._

_You got your hot crowd, _

_Switching your walk,_

_And you don't even look when you pass by. _

_But you don't know, _

_The way that you look._

_When your steps make _

_That Much Noise. _

_And don't you dare act like you don't know,_

_Know what's up,_

_Cuz your nose is up._

_I'm approaching up. _

_Like I can't give you winter in the summer_

_Or summer in the winter_

_Miami in December _

_Trying to look bored in them Dior's._

_She probably is, _

_Was acting shallow 'til she found out _

_How deep that my pockets is _

_Mrs. Pre-Madonna, this is your reminder _

_That I think you're fine, but I'm finer _

_'Cause it sure seems('Cause it sure seems)_

_You got no doubt(That you got no doubt)_

_But we all see(We all see)_

_You got your head in the clouds(Clouds)_

_If I could write you a song,_

_And make you fall in love,_

_I would already have you up under my arm. _

_I used to pull all my tricks,_

_I hope that you like this. _

_But you probably won't, _

_You think you're cooler than me. _

_You got designer shades,_

_Just to hide your face and you wear them around like, _

_You're cooler than me._

_And you never say hey,_

_Or remember my name. _

_It's probably cuz,_

_You think you're cooler than me._

I opened the window to let some air in. I drove straight to Starbucks, intent on picking up a coffee and croissant. I parked the car and got out, locking my Aston Martin as walked into the building. There was no line at the cash, so I went right up.

"Hello, welcome to St—St—St—arbucks, h—how can I help y—you?" the girl at the register said, stuttering. I smirked my signature Jace Lightwood smirk. I decided that I deserved to have some fun, especially since Kaelie wasn't with me today (cheerleading practice).

"Well, hello—" I checked her name tag "— Anna. How are you today?" I asked, leaning on the counter.

"Good, especially _now_," she purred.

I leaned in closer. "That's good. You know what would make my day better?" I said, looking right into her intense green eyes. Whoa, _green eyes_? No , Anna's eyes were brown, like the coffee I wanted to order. . . Clary had green eyes though. Lovely, deep, emerald green eyes . . . _Focus, Lightwood_, I ordered myself.

I stood up straight, ignoring Anna's pout. "A grande Iced Café Mocha and a Buttered Croissant," I replied.

"Coming right up," she said, her voice venomous.

"ANNA! This is _Starbucks_, not _Lets Scare Away our Customers-_bucks! Better customer service please!" a familiar voice shouted.

"Yes, Alec," the girl said. A smile crawled across my face.

"Hey, Anna, while you're at it, I also want Alec's head on a stick. Can you do that for me?" I said, loud enough for the whole kitchen to hear.

A few of the staff snickered and footsteps came my way. Alec walked up to the cash, a look of surprise on his face. "You want my head on a stick?" he asked, sounding confused.

I laughed at his expression. "No, I just wanted to get your attention. Your staff is so _pushy_. That girl tried to _seduce_ me. You should really look into things like that when hiring your staff," I pointed out to Alec.

His expression turned from confusion to amusement. "Oh, so _you're_ why she sounded like she was about to faint!" Alec snorted.

I winked at him. "I _know_! I didn't think I had it in me either. I mean, I've been told that I'm stunningly attractive, but I thought it was just a rumour!" I said, mock-incredulously.

Alec snorted again. "Jace, I've lived with you and your massive ego for what, seven years? Your mock-modesty thing might've worked the first time, but not now," Alec said, shaking his head.

I smiled, remembering the time three years ago when Izzy attempted to 'relieve me of my inflated ego' with a pin and I ended up in the emergency room. I honestly hadn't thought that she'd have the guts to actually do it, so I guess that made the incident mostly my fault for underestimating her willpower.

"So are you planning on getting me my croissant and iced coffee, or are you just going to stand their ogling me like Anna? I mean, face it, I'm hot and no one can deny it, but honestly Mr. Lightwood, I thought you'd be able to control yourself, seeing as you're working and all," I said jokingly, making Alec cringe.

"Ha ha, Jace, you're _so_funny. Coming right u— _Oh, God_," Alec broke off, looking mortified. I turned to see a person walk in the door.

Said person had midnight blue and black hair styled in a messy mohawk-fohawk hybrid with sparkles in it. His skin tone and cat eyes made him look slightly Asian. His eyes— which were almost literally cat eyes, he probably wore costume contacts—were ringed by a thick line of dark black liner and his eyelids were painted a sparkly black colour. He was dressed in an off-white dress shirt with a sparkly purple vest on top and his fingernails were painted all different sparkly colours. He looked like a male version of Isabelle when she was fourteen and decided to be the 'glitter fairy' for Halloween.

He walked—no, it was actually more of a strut, like you'd see on a catwalk, really—up to the cash register and leaned forward like I had when Anna was in Alec's place.

"Hello, sexy," he purred, looking straight at Alec and ignoring me. "Are we still on for tonight, baby?" the sparkly man purred. Everything about him was strangely feline, the way he spoke, the way he strutted.

"_Magnus_, not now," Alec hissed, looking nervously at me. The glitter man, Magnus, seemed to notice me and looked my way.

"Ooh! You got me a present, Alec? You are _soo_ sweet! I haven't had my daily dose of _eye candy_ yet today," Magnus exclaimed, his eyes raking down my body.

"Whoa," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Alec, you're with . . . with _him_?" I said, feeling a little out of the loop.

Alec blushed. "I _love_ it when you blush, Alexander. I could paint your cheeks like that so you're always blushing," Magnus purred.

Alec gave him a hard look. "Who are you?" I demanded.

"I am Magnus Bane, New York's _greatest_ fashion designer. And you are?" Magnus said with a flourish.

"Jace Lightwood, brother of Alec and hater of people who keep secrets that I'm not allowed to know about," I said, directing the last comment to Alec.

Alec sighed dejectedly. "Jace, this is Magnus, my . . . boyfriend," Alec sighed.

I turned to him, my eyes wide. "Alec, I know you have a thing for the . . . male sex . . . but seriously? This guy looks like a gay glitter fairy!" I exclaimed. Alec shrugged and then disappeared into the back for a minute.

Magnus and I glared at each other until Alec came back, holding my coffee and croissant. "Here's your food, Jace, now go to work. Bye," Alec said, cuing me to make my exit.

I smiled wickedly. "Of course, Your Highness. My gracing presence and I are going to leave and share my awesomeness with the rest of the world. So long." I said, walking out the door, enjoying the annoyed look on Alec's face.

Clary PoV

"Hi, I'd like to apply for a job here. I heard you are hiring from a friend of mine." I was standing at the counter in Hollister, talking to the manager.

"Yes, we are. Does your friend work here?" the lady asked, tossing her dyed-blonde hair. I could tell it was a dye job because her eyebrows were jet black and you could see her roots growing out. I nodded.

"Yes, Cameron White. He told me that you are looking for employees because you lost half your staff when the management was changed over," I explained to her.

She raised one jet black eyebrow at me. "You think that I'd hire someone like _you_ to work _here_?" she asked incredulously.

She looked me over, from my Sketcher-clad feet to the pink tee I was wearing over black leggings. I thought I looked okay. I was even wearing make-up and had my hair straightened.

"Umm, yes. Or at least I was hoping you would. Cam told me that you would probably hire me," I replied, annoyed by her rudeness.

I saw Cam walking towards us out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing a grey t-shirt that highlighted his arctic-blue eyes, which were sparkling as he approached. "Hello, Camille. This is my girlfriend, Clary. I told her that we are looking for staff and that you'd be happy to hire her, no interview," Cam told the girl.

She got a dreamy look in her eyes. "Yes, Cam, of course I'd be happy to hire her. When can you start, Clary?" Camille asked, still staring at Cam.

"I can start now if you'd like," I offered, pulling out my phone to text Simon.

"Now sounds great. I have you on minimum wage, but you can work your way up to getting paid more. Now we just have to get you into a uniform," Camille said, walking out from behind the desk and grabbing my arm.

I barely had time to text a quick message to Simon telling him that I wouldn't be home for dinner. She dragged me around the store, throwing a pretty green knit tank top with a green lace backing (the tag proclaimed it to be called Manhattan Beach) at me and a pair of dark blue jeggings.

"Go change in the back and then I'll show you how to use the cash register before I go on break. For now, you and Cam can work on the same schedule as he will be training you," Camille informed us.

I took the tank and jeggings into the change room and put them on, neatly folding my clothes and sliding them into my messenger bag. I liked the way the green tank top brought out my eyes and the jeggings felt like my favourite pair of old worn, jeans. I stepped out and walked back to where Cam and Camille were standing.

When Camille saw me she squealed. "That outfit looks fabulous on you! I figured that the best way for me to teach you to use the cash register was for you to buy your outfits and then I'll teach you how to ring those in!" Camille announced, looking overjoyed.

I could tell that she was putting on a good face for Cam. "Sure, Camille. That sounds good. So I'll just browse. Any certain style I should be going for?" I said, trying to get on her good side.

She nodded enthusiastically. "For sure. You need at least one dress because every Saturday is our Dress Day. Sunday is for hoodies and track pants, and you need one blouse-y type top for on Tuesdays. Other than that it's your choice!"

Jace PoV

"Jace, you're off in fifteen minutes!" I looked up from where I was helping a lady pick out jogging wear.

"Thanks, Jeff!" I called, addressing my manager. he liked everyone to clock in and out on time and was constantly reminding people when their shifts were over.

"Jace! I need your help. I know nothing about hockey!" Marina panted, tapping my shoulder. She had come running at me, full tilt, needing help. Marina was twenty-something and had been working for the company for over ten years. She was probably the sweetest person on staff. She was married to the assistant manager, Mark, and they had a little boy who came to visit the store with his babysitter sometimes.

"How about I go help with the hockey stuff, if you help this lady with jogging apparel. I don't know the first thing about women's jogging clothes," I told her.

Marina smiled at me and turned to the lady. "Okay so what type of jogging apparel you choose has to be based on what you are comfortable wearing when you go for a jog . . ." Marina said too the woman. I walked across the store and found the man and his son looking at shirts to wear for hockey training.

I recognized the boy as one of the Grade 9's from my school. His eyes widened as I approached.

"Hello, what can I help you with?" I said, smiling at them.

"My son, Ryan, is on the triple A hockey team and needs something to wear for off-ice training. The coach sent us here," the man explained.

"JACE! You're off in five minutes!" Jeff shouted.

I shook my head. "Okay, well for off-ice training, you want to buy a top that will allow you to move comfortably and breath. I'd suggest this one, and these shorts," I said, pointing to them.

The man nodded his thanks and I went to the back to check out through Jeff. I swear sometimes the man drives me insane with his constant reminders.

"I'm done for the day," I told him, grabbing my jacket and t-shirt.

"Yes, you are. See you tomorrow," Jeff said, his head bowed over his work.

I slipped out the Employee Exit and out into the cool, fresh air. I hopped into my car and drove towards Taki's. It was directly across the street from where I worked. Taki's was a huge building with no windows. Apparently it used to be a prison of some sort until the new one was built downtown. But the food was absolutely delicious.

Whenever I had to coach, I always picked up a soup and sandwich from there. I drove across and straight in to the drive-through slot. "Hi, welcome to Taki's. what can I get you?" the voice asked.

I rolled my window down further. "Soup and sandwich combo. Chicken noodle soup and a chicken club," I replied.

There was a pause on the other end. "Please move up to the next window," came the reply. I drove forward to the next slot and pulled my wallet out of my school bag.

"Your total comes to 12.75," the girl said. I handed her a few bills and she passed me my soup in a cup and my sandwich. "Your change is twenty-five cents."

The girl handed me a quarter. I nodded at her and rolled my window up. My next stop was the arena. I was coaching a Boy U7 AA lacrosse team. They played every Tuesday and Thursday. Coach had actually suggested to the league that they hire me as the main coach, perhaps hoping that the kids would respond better to someone who actually plays.

I tried to focus on the lacrosse game, but my thoughts kept switching between _her_ and the stupid English presentation. Like I really wanted to talk about the factors that made me who I am today. I didn't. Not at all. It was too depressing. No one gives a damn that my dad was an alcoholic drugee who used to abuse my mother and I. No one cares that my mom died during one of his drunken rampages when I was three. They don't care or want to know about how when I turned seven I was sent to some sort of orphanage/detention facility because I my father could no longer take care of me and they were worried that his drunken and high rampages would influence me to be too violent to live with a normal family. At least, until the Lightwood's adopted me.

I don't even know how they found out about me. Only Cam knew that I was in that facility. I shoved those thoughts aside, pulling up in an empty space in the parking lot. I grabbed my dinner and clipboard/whiteboard and dry erase markers out of my school bag.

I made my way inside, choosing to focus on the fact that I was starving. That was better to think about than the alternatives, namely _her_ and _him_. I walked into the crowded change room. "Coach!" the boys cheered, one kid throwing a sock at me. "Henry!" The boy's mother scolded. He just smirked into his lap. I dropped my stuff on the empty coaches bench. "We're going to win today," I stated, trying to sound confident. The players cheered. This time, however, no one threw any articles of clothing at me.

I drew up a play on the board and put names beside each X, indicating which kid I wanted on each position. "Aww, I _hate_ that position, Coach Jace!" Sander complained. That kid had something to say about every position. Unless he was playing center forward, he wasn't happy. Granted, he was a great player, but he wasn't very well-rounded like most of the other kids. Most of the parents were gone by now.

"Sander, just start on mid and I promise I'll move you up to center forward near the end. you can be our secret weapon," I told him, proud of myself for thinking up the whole secret weapon thing.

A knock on the door came that signalled our time to get into the arena. The ice had been taken out of the hockey arena, leaving it perfect for a lacrosse field. The boys went to their positions and practiced a bit of passing, something they did far too seldom during the games.

In the first quarter, we were leading six to four. Sander was seething at me for being forced to play everything but forward. I ate my dinner during the second quarter, shouting orders in between bites of sandwich and spoonfuls of soup. In the third quarter the other team stole the lead and were ahead twelve to ten.

At the end of the final quarter I signalled an on-the-fly sub, putting Sander on center forward. We only needed three goals, and with Sander's speed we would easily be able to get three of not four or five. The kid was a definite ball-hog, but this game was our ticket to first place and I could tell the whole team wanted that.

True to claims, Sander scored us not three but five goals and a couple of the bigger kids attempted to carry him out of the arena. For some reason, I wasn't in the mood for celebrating, even though I promised to buy them doughnuts and pop from Starbuck's. And the team noticed it. Intuitive little seven-year-olds. "Coach Jace, you aren't celebrating. Why?" Mark asked me.

The kid looked so innocent and sweet I couldn't deny him the truth. Call me soft. Only around little kids though. Around anyone else, I would've shrugged the comment off and made a sarcastic remark or joke. "Well, there's this girl . . ." I started.

A few jaws dropped. "Well, no _duh_. There's _always_ a girl!" Sander snickered.

"Just ask 'er out, Coach," Mark told me. I shook my head.

"You see, it's not that simple. She's dating my best friend . . ." I replied. I know, taking advice from seven-year-olds sounds pretty stupid, but I just needed someone to vent to.

"Well, Coach, you just have to do it behind his back," one suggested. A few others said _yeah_. I shook my head at them. It was going to be a long night.


	8. I Like It

**Hey! I am SO sorry for taking so long to update! School has been absolutely crazy and I had massive writers block earlier AND this chapter is UBER long (like 14 pages on Microsoft Word). I hope you think it is worth the wait. This chapter is SUPER important to the plot and basically starts the whole storyline going. This is by far my favourite chapter so far and the fact that its written in Jace's point of view doesn't hurt. **

**I would just like to address one matter that really pissed me off while I was writing this. ANONYMOUS REVIEWERS. Honestly, I have no problem with you reviewing anonymously, but be warned that I can't send you the excerpts because you aren't reviewing from an actual account. But with anonymous reviewing, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't come in and pick apart my writing because I spend hours writing and rewriting these chapters and since I have no clue if you can write better than me, I'm probably not going to take your advice seriously. Honestly, if you want to insult my grammar and writing skills do it to my face and give me the chance to PM you back and give you a piece of my mind. That's my only pet peeve. If you have an actual account that you review from, feel free to give me constructive criticism because anything that will make my story better is golden. **

**On that note, I'd like to thank MyLifeSucks12 for giving me her constructive criticism AND doing it from an actual account AND even letting me know how I could fix the excerpt I gave her. And this is to the anonymous reviewer who called them self 'D' and sent me a review for Chapters 1, 2, and 7: Thank you for the criticism, but next time, please have the decency to give me an account to send a reply back to. Thanks. **

**I'm done ranting. Sorry if I scared anyone! I'm not a violent person, I swear, but I've had a busy day and I'm a tad pissed at being told I'm not good enough. *takes deep breath* Okay. *breathes out* I'm better now. This chapter was only possible with the help of my AMZING beta rozahath who took the time to edit this for me. She's awesome. If you get a chance, thank her for putting up with my mistakes and making all this possible. She's the best. **

**Okay, so that was the longest AN I've ever written. But it felt good to get that off my chest. Thank you to everyone who read through the massive note, I love you all and it's because of you that I have the inspiration to write this story. Ohmygod, did anyone else watch Glee on Tuesday? I LOVE the new season and the new characters, especially Sam! He's my new fave. Move over Finn, I want more Sam! He's so awesome and cute! I heard that apparently he's going to be Kurt's boyfriend and as awesome as they'd be together, I think I'd die if they got together. I have nothing against gay people (I love Kurt on the show) but yeah. I want Sam. He's mine, I called him! **

**Okay so without further ado, the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: You know what I own and don't own (or you should by now if you've been paying any attention)**

**Chapter Songs:**

***I Like It- Enrique Iglesias (feat. Pitbull)- the first scene. Named the chapter for it. You'll see why.**

***Love the Way You Lie- Eminem (feat. Rihanna)- the English presentations. You'll understand when you read it.**

***Your Man- Down With Webster- the party. Basically Jace's feelings towards Clary at this point. **

8. I Like It

Jace PoV

_One love, one love_

_Go go Dj, go go go Dj, go go go Dj, club is on fire_

_Y'all know what time it is, we go set it off tonight_

_Just go, set the club on fire, just go_

_Enrique! Holla at 'em_

The radio turned on, signalling that it was time to get up. Enrique Iglesias' 'I Like It' was on. The song reminded me of the conversation I had over coffee (for me) and doughnuts (for them) with the lacrosse team I coached. "C'mon Coach Jace, the solution is _obvious_! You told us a few weeks ago that you best friend, aka the guy who's dating the girl you like, was going to be away this coming weekend for his sister's dance competition in Florida. You told us that you were going to have a boring weekend. So throw a party and hook up with her there!" They had all cheered at that suggestion. They were devious little boys.

If I didn't have morals, their idea might've appealed to me. I mean, I've heard people saying that they did that and ended up with the girl, but I couldn't do that to Cam. After Cam caught me making out with his sister like two years ago, we had sworn to each other that we wouldn't kiss each other's siblings—and current girlfriends. So that put Lexis and Clary off-limits for me, and Alec, Isabelle and Kaelie for him.

_Girl please excuse me if I'm coming too strong_

_But tonight is the night we can really let go_

_My girlfriend is out of town and I'm all alone_

_And your boyfriend is on vacation and he doesn't have to know_

_No I won't, oh oh, oh oh_

_No one can do the things I'm gonna wanna do to you_

_No I won't, oh oh, oh oh_

_Shout it out, scream it loud_

_Let me hear you go_

I sat up slowly, looking at my choices. On the one hand, I work around my morals and throw a party, having Izzy invite Clary, or I could be with Kaelie for my whole life and die in my sleep from being strangled to death by her hugging me. Hmm, kind of liking Option 1. I stood up and stretched, shivering in my plaid boxers. I wiped sleep out of my eyes and grabbed some clothing from my drawers. It was a Wednesday, mid-week, and I was already tired of going to school. Luckily I had Friday off because of some mis-scheduling on the school boards part. Apparently they forgot about March Break and scheduled a Professional Activities / Professional Development day for Friday and they can't change it now. _Perfect for a party. Kaelie is going to Rachel's beach house on Friday, and Cam is going to Lexis' dance competition that day_, a part of me whispered.

I shook that part off and intended to kill it with a cold shower. I stepped inside my bathroom and turned the water on, placing my clothes on the floor by the toilet. I inspected myself in the mirror, looking at all of my old scars from where my father would throw broken beer bottles at me, and the scar that ran down my back from the time he slapped me and sent me flying into the metal fridge. he had taken me to the hospital right away, of course, but the doctors could do nothing for the scar.

I shook my head, sending my hair into my eyes. It was the longest it had been in years. Usually Maryse had me go to the hairdresser's every few months, but in all the commotion of going to visit her parents for March Break and her interior design career taking off, I guess she forgot.

_Baby I like it_

_The way you move on the floor_

_Baby I like it_

_Come on and give me some more_

_Oh yes I like it_

_Screaming like never before_

_Baby I like it_

_I, I, I like it._

_Party, Karamu, Fiesta, Forever_

I undressed and slipped into the shower, I sucked in a deep breath when the frigid water touched my back. I selected a shampoo off the wall of products and squeezed a glob onto my hand. I wet my hair and began to lather the shampoo. As I did this, I found my thoughts formulating excuses to make to Kaelie that would allow me to sit next to Clary. I slapped myself by making the water colder and stuck my head under the spray, teeth chattering as I rinsed my hair.

_Girl please excuse me If I'm misbehaving, oh_

_I'm trying keep my hands off_

_But you're begging me for more_

_Round, round, round_

_Give a low, low, low_

_Let the time, time pass_

_'Cause we're never getting old_

_No I won't, oh oh, oh oh_

_No one can do it better_

_Turn around I'll give you more_

_No I won't, oh oh, oh oh_

_Shout it out, scream it loud_

_Let me hear you go_

I pulled a random body wash off the wall from my collection. I smelled it before I poured it in my hand, relieved that it wasn't the chocolate-scented stuff because that one smelled nothing like chocolate and I didn't really have the desire to smell like a dessert. Sometimes Kaelie wore like _cherry crumble_ —or something like that—perfume. That was my least favourite scent ever. I felt like I was gagging every time I smelled her that day. She took the hint and never wore it again, thank God.

I rinsed my body off, pleased that my thoughts were staying on track. I turned the water off and wrapped my lower half in a towel. I shook my hair into the shower, water from it splattering against the tile walls. I dried my body off and threw my clothes on. It was seven thirty when I checked my clock and I could faintly hear Isabelle complaining that her flat iron wasn't turning on and how she'd have to leave her hair the way it naturally lay—in waves. I checked my cell phone and was surprised by the fact that I hadn't had any phone calls yet today.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and shoved my phone into my jeans' pocket. I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Max sat on a stool in his Spiderman pyjama's, looking at a rough sketch of a race car. "Whatcha looking at, Max?" I asked, dropping my bag and sitting on the stool next to him.

"A picture," he said vaguely, not looking up. He traced the sleek shape of the car with his finger.

"I can see that, Max. Where'd you get it? did you draw that?" I asked, wanting more answers.

Max moved his arm and I spotted a signature at the bottom of the page. In curlicue script, the signature read _Clarissa Fairchild_. My eyes widened. I knew that Clary was taking art in school, but I didn't know that she was _that_ good. I knew her mom was an artist and she obviously must've gotten _some_ of her talent, but to what extent I didn't know.

_Baby I like it_

_The way you move on the floor_

_Baby I like it_

_Come on and give me some more_

_Oh yes I like it_

_Screaming like never before_

_Baby I like it_

_I, I, I like it._

"Clary drew this for you?" I asked.

Max nodded. "It was my birthday present," he explained, eyes never leaving the page.

A few seconds later, Max lifted his head and looked at me. "Oh, Mom had to pop out next door to help Mrs. Lewis with something, but she told me to tell you that there's scrambled eggs in the bowl on the counter. She said to heat them up for a minute if they got cold," he told me. I nodded and found the bowl on the counter, exactly where Max told me.

I scooped out what I wanted onto a plate and stuck it in the microwave. Alec and Izzy came down at around 8:00, explaining to me that they had already eaten and were just waiting for me to finish up so we could get to school. I scooped the last of my eggs into my mouth and washed it down with a glass of juice.

"C'mon, Max. Time to go," I heard Alec say. I could picture Max sighing and pinning the picture to the fridge.

Five minutes later, we were all in Alec's car and driving towards the elementary school. Isabelle sat shotgun, so I had to sit in the back with Max, which wasn't really that bad. Well, except for the fact that Isabelle had taken control of the radio and turned it to a station that was playing the song I heard on the radio earlier this morning.

_Come DJ that's my DJ, I'm a Miami boy...you know how we play,I'm playing what you wanna I play.._

_What u give me got me good,_

_Now watch me.._

_It's a different species, get me in DC ,Let's Party on the White house Lawn,_

_Tiger woods' tired of Jesse James,_

_Here goes Pitbull all night long,_

_Pick up Barack and Michelle and let 'em that's it's on,_

_Pa'Fuera! Pa'la calle,_

_Dale mamita tirame ese baile!,_

_Dale mamita tirame ese baile!_

Isabelle attempted to rap, off-key and soon Max had joined in. He stumbled over the Spanish words, making me laugh at his failed attempt. Alec pulled up in front of the elementary school and we let max out, watching as he found his friends and they began to talk, and shove each other. The way he interacted with his best friend, Noah, reminded me of how Cam and I used to be at that age. We were all about sports—well, sports and bugging the hell out of the girls with our 'cooties'.

_I see you watching me, you see me watchin' you,_

_I love the way you move_

_I like them dance you do like_

_Don't stop baby, don't stop baby_

_Just keep on shaking along_

_I won't stop baby, won't stop baby_

_Until you get enough_

_Party, Karamu, Fiesta, Forever_

"Mom and Dad are going out this weekend," Isabelle mused, breaking the silence. Alec shot her a confused look and I groaned, feeling like all my worst fears—and guiltiest thoughts—were about to be made possible with Isabelle's next words.

"We should throw a party! It would be amazing! We could invite _everybody_ and make it the biggest event this month! What do you guys think?" Isabelle asked, sounding excited.

I stared out the window, hoping she wouldn't ask me. Usually I loved a good party, but honestly, with all that was going on and that _damn song_, I really wasn't in the mood for one.

_Baby I like it_

_The way you move on the floor_

_Baby I like it_

_Come on and give me some more_

_Oh yes I like it_

_Screaming like never before_

_Baby I like it_

_I, I, I like it._

_Baby I like it_

_The way you move on the floor_

_Baby I like it_

_Come on and give me some more_

_Oh yes I like it_

_Screaming like never before_

_Baby I like it_

_I, I, I like it._

_Party, (oh yes I like it) Karamu, Fiesta, Forever!_

_Party, (oh yes I like it) Karamu, Fiesta, Forever!_

"Um, Iz, I'm not really sure that's such a great idea," Alec responded, forever the voice of reason.

"Come _on_, Alec! You can't be serious! It would be spectacular, amazing, legendary, epic, take your pick! You could even invite some of your friends from work!" Isabelle gushed, trying to get Alec to agree.

"Oh yes, I could invite Anna. I'm sure Jace is just _dying_ to see her again," Alec said evilly.

I leaned forward so that my mouth was level to his neck. I clutched the headrest for support in case he decided to make any sharp turns. "Alexander Lightwood, if you bring her to the house ever I swear I will—" I hissed, allowing him to feel my words on the back of his neck.

"O_kay_, I think we get it, Jace. So the party is a good idea, yes?" Not waiting for us to answer, Isabelle went on. "Great, fabulous, awesome. Tell people seven o'clock, our place. I'll invite them all via Facebook tonight anyway, but for now _spread the word_!" Isabelle sang the last part.

Soon we were at school and I was making my way into the building, on the lookout for my psycho girlfriend. I knew that I wouldn't see Cam until class—he was probably lip-locking with Clary somewhere on the campus—so I went straight to my locker and got my books. I made my way to the English-slash-Arts hall just in time for class.

Cam was sitting in his usual seat with Clary in what was usually my spot. When I walked past he gave me a _hey, man I'm sorry, but y'know how it is_ look. I just walked to an empty seat on the other side of the room and watched as Cam whispered something in Clary's ear. She let out a small giggle and I rolled my eyes. His whole girlfriend-flaunting act was very elementary. He was the master of it, of course, because I don't think that I _ever_ taunted him by engaging in PDA's with _any_ of my girlfriend's, not even Kaelie who sometimes can't keep her hands off me.

As the announcements started, there was no sign of Kaelie. Cam and Clary held hands through the whole song and his other hand buried itself in her hair. _This party could be a good idea_, I thought to myself as the announcement team began blathering away about how prom was coming soon and the student council wanted to put together a committee. _Cam's ego could use a few inches of knocking down_.

_Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing**_

The rest of the week passed in a bit of a blur. It was uneventful and basically consisted of Isabelle and I planning a party, Kaelie being a no-show in English every day, and me not talking to Cam, but not in an un-obvious way. I went out for lunch, usually on my own and claiming that I was checking on Kaelie.

I was sitting in English, my assignment sitting on my desk and laptop set to my PowerPoint presentation to accompany it. I had decided to go high-tech and even added music to the picture parts that matched the mood.

"Any volunteers for first up?" Mrs. Starkwater asked the class once the announcements were over. Naturally, the whole room went silent, everyone's eyes cast down at their papers. Mrs. Starkwater circled the room, her high heels clicking against the tile floor. Every few desks, she'd pause, searching the room for a victim.

"Mr. Lightwood, would you care to go first?" she asked, standing beside my desk.

I nodded sullenly at her. "Of course, Mrs. Starkwater," I said, lifting up my laptop and papers. I connected my laptop to the projector and clicked on the file.

"Okay, so to get full marks on this assignment, I do _not_ want you to read exactly what's on your paper. I can do that for myself. I want you to ad lib a little and make the presentation more exciting and colourful. While you will _not_ get extra marks for having a PowerPoint presentation, it will contribute to your oral communication mark. You have about seven to eight minutes to present," Mrs. Starkwater explained.

Everyone chorused their compliance and Mrs. Starkwater gave me the heads up that I could begin. I took a deep breath and turned the projector on, making sure that the cap was still on the lens. I looked at the rest of the class, noting that Cam wasn't present and Kaelie was still sick (bad case of swine flu, her dad told me).

"There are many factors that contributed to the person I am today. I can't say that many of them are good influences, but I like to think that the small acts of goodness I was shown throughout my life outweigh the negatives.

"My mother died when I was three. I don't remember much of her death, except that it was by my father's hand. I also remember telling this to the police, who wrote it off as post-traumatic stress and told me to be thankful that the robber only got my mother and didn't injure my father. So, in order for you to understand my early life easier, I went down to the police station on Wednesday and asked them for some of the security tapes and home videos they had taken from my house when I was little."

I took the cap off of the projector and an image of me as a three-year-old filled the screen. The date was printed in red letters across the bottom of the screen: December 25th. The day my mother was killed. I hit the play button and my mother's voice filled the room.

"Hi, Jace! Merry Christmas! Can you say 'Merry Christmas' to mummy?" Céline's voice said from behind the camera.

The three-year-old me took a few steps to the camera and pressed his face against it. "Merry Christmas, momma!" He shouted. I smiled inwardly to myself as the class irrupted into giggles.

"Good job, Jace-y. Do you want to open your presents?" Céline asked. The little blond boy nodded and turned his back to the camera, reaching for the biggest present under the tree. Just as the boy's back turned, you can hear footsteps echoing.

"Hey, Stephen! Jace is just opening his pres—" the sentence is never finished. There's a crash as a glass bottle hits her head and you can hear her scream like something out of a horror movie. I looked away from the screen, remembering how I saw my father smiling over my mother's body and how the police wouldn't review this tape, even though it was the most recent.

The scene fades and Eminem's 'Love The Way You Lie' comes on. Clean version, of course, bought off iTunes just for this project. A slide show of images rolls onto the screen. The first picture is from a security camera tape that my father hid from the police when they came on their yearly visits to the house. The picture is of me, no more than four years old, with glass shards protruding from my back and Stephen standing over me with a scolding look on his face.

A few more images roll through, each threatening to make me want to throw the laptop at the wall. I didn't, though, and the whole class's eyes were watery when the music faded and I began speaking again.

"So, as you can see, my early life wasn't perfect, or anywhere near. if you haven't inferred this already, Stephen was an alcoholic and a drugee. He had a drug lab in our basement and would spend hours down there every day, working away at creating batches of his concoctions to sell in the back alley's of New York.

"I think it was actually Cam's parents who called the police to inform them of the goings on in the Herondale house. On my seventh birthday, the police came in to search the whole house and found my father guilty. You would think that this would have improved my life, but they ended up sending me to a detention facility because they thought that Stephen's behaviours would influence me to be volatile and harmful to a normal family. I think that for a while, I believed it to. I kept my distance from the other boys at the facility and whenever families came to adopt, I hid in a corner and waited for them to leave.

"I think it was either early April or late March when the Lightwood's came to the facility asking for me. I remember being ten years old and terrified. Not _of_ them, but _for_them, like I believed that them having me around would be bad for their health or something. They wanted me anyway, and I think that was the first act of goodness I had witnessed since my mother's death. I didn't live an easy early life, but I think that all of those factors contributed to who I am today. My dad actually died in a car accident after he was let out of jail, which I think was last year. I got a letter from the city saying that he was dead and I could attend his funeral if I wished, but I'm pretty sure I just ripped the letter up and threw it in the fireplace. I didn't want anything to do with him, and I still don't. Those are the factors that contributed to the person I am today. Thank you for listening to my presentation."

I shut my computer down and disconnected it from the projector. The class clapped politely as I walked back to my seat and I gave them my most humble nods. A couple of girls had wet eyes, mascara beginning to run down their cheeks in black rivers. Mrs. Starkwater scanned the class for her next victim. Her eyes landed on Clary, who flushed cherry red.

"Miss Fairchild, would you care to go next?" Mrs. Starkwater asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Starkwater—I mean, no, I wouldn't mind going," Clary stuttered, looking nervous.

She walked up to the front and I noticed that she was wearing a pair of black leggings and purple high-heeled knee-high boots that Isabelle would've approved of, paired with a purple off-the-shoulder top over a black tank-top. The boots added a few inches to her height and the purple and black set off her flaming red hair.

She hooked her MacBook up to the projector, switching all of the cables for Apple ones. She left the lens cap on and handed Mrs. Starkwater her written assignment, which from where I was sitting looked like it could be a short novel.

"Hi, I'm Clary Fairchild. I'm new this semester, so a lot of you don't know much about me. To understand the factors I'm about to talk about you need to know a little bit more than the fact that I'm from Los Angeles. I'll start by talking about my family. I come from a family of four. I had a brother. I had a father. I had a mother. Yes, _had_. I used to have all those things, but I don't any more and not for the reason you'd expect. My mother, sadly, is dead, but my father and brother are not.

"I was disowned, to put it simply. It happened last Monday, the first day back from March Break. The time was six thirty, and I know this because I had just gotten back from the art studio I worked at. I walked in the door to find my father standing there, staring me down. 'I know what you did, Clarissa,' was the first thing he said when I walked in. I remember being shell-shocked, thinking _What did I do?_ I did something, that's for certain.

"I'll start by telling you what I did. I went through my father's filing cabinet, looking for my mother's will because I _knew_ that she had left me a large sum of money and ownership of some of her paintings. I found her will all right, but what I found first was the most disturbing thing I'd ever seen. In fact, I'll show you," she said, clicking a few buttons on her laptop and removing the lens cap of the projector.

The screen filled with a picture of a marriage certificate. I looked at the names printed on the certificate: Helen Nightshade and Valentine Morgenstern. Whoa, was Clary trying to say that she is related to Valentine Morgenstern, Hollywood's top lawyer?

"You are probably all wondering what I'm trying to get at. Well, I'm trying to get at the fact that I used to be Clarissa Morgenstern, daughter of one of the most powerful people in the States. After he kicked me out, I reverted to my mother's last name, Fairchild.

"He kicked me out because my brother told him that I had hacked into his bank account and took the money he owed me and that I . . . I found out about his affair. His second marriage. _To his personal trainer_. Cliché, right? My thought exactly. I would also like to point out that Ms. Nightshade has been pregnant four times since the date on this certificate.

"My mother's death is probably the biggest factor that contributed to who I am today. I have this suspicion that the only reason Valentine ever really kept me around was because of my mother. After her . . . her death, I w—was just an extra limb to drag around . . . a liability. He also blamed her death on m—me, and I don't blame him for that accusation. It's probably—probably t—true." Clary's sentence was cut off by sobs that made her shake.

"Miss Fairchild, Clarissa, are you okay?" Mrs. Starkwater asked.

I felt like slapping her. _Of course_ Clary wasn't _okay_. She was upset by her past, the memory of a family member being lost. I knew exactly how she felt.

"Mrs. Starkwater, I think she needs fresh air, I'll take her outside and calm her down," I said before I could think twice about the statement.

Mrs. Starkwater looked surprised at my outburst but she nodded.

"That sounds like a good idea, Mr. Lightwood," Mrs. Starkwater agreed.

Clary packed up her laptop and took her whole bag with us. I walked with her silently out to the gardens, noticing that her mascara was starting to smudge around her eyes. It probably wasn't appropriate for me to comment on it, though. When we reached the bench by the tulips, I sat down and gestured for her to join me.

"Are you okay?" I asked, cringing when it came out. _Stupid_, I thought._Mrs. Starkwater just asked her that and you mentally ranted about it. No frickin' duh she's not okay!_

"Y—yeah. It's just that the whole thing is so hard for me to talk about. How were you so calm up there?" Clary asked, turning her green eyes to stare into mine. They really are an awesome colour, like emeralds but deeper and more soulful.

"You get used to it and the feelings fade. Trust me on that. The feelings will dull to a mild ache and you'll be able to talk about it more freely. Not having anyone to love is better in a way, for me at least. 'To love is to be weak'. That's what I learned after I was taken into the care of that detention facility. You have to be tough to make it," I said truthfully, feeling like a giant weight was taken off of my chest. I decided that I liked the feeling.

"I don't believe that, Jace. You love Isabelle, and Alec, and Max, and the Lightwoods. Love doesn't make you weak," she insisted, shaking her head. Her hair was curly today and the fiery tendrils whipped across her face as she shook her head.

"I want to go back in, Jace. I'm fine now. I'll see you at the party tonight I guess, Iz is forcing me to go. Bye Jace," Clary said, standing up and leaving me sitting on the bench alone.

_Dammit Lightwood. This is why you_don't_confess your feelings_, I thought.

_Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing**_

"Jace Lightwood! Get up here right now! I am NOT letting you be seen at my party in sweat pants and a t-shirt!" Isabelle called into the basement. "Two seconds, Izzy!" I shouted back, doing my last set of push-ups and taking a swig of my water. I threw my t-shirt over my shoulder and made my way up the steps in my sweats. Isabelle was big on image, my image especially. I don't know why, but I guess she was afraid all of her friends at the party would be throwing themselves at me if I was shirtless.

I reached the top of the stairs and Isabelle grabbed me by the shoulder. "Jace Lightwood. The party is in 30 minutes. Why are you not getting ready?" Isabelle huffed.

She had her face all made up and was wearing her fluffy pink housecoat and had her hair up in a towel.

"Uh, Iz, I'm a guy. I don't need hours to get ready. I take a five minute shower and throw some clothes on. Not that complicated," I explained to her slowly.

That seemed to piss her off. "Whatever Jace. Just go get ready. Clary is in my bathroom so don't you even think about going in there— No you know what, I'll just escort you to your room."

I shook my head and let her lead me up the stairs. _I_do_smell like sweat_, I decided, _a shower wouldn't hurt. I'm sure Clary would prefer cologne to Eau de Perspiration_ . . . I mentally slapped myself for thinking. I had been doing so well, using physical activity to keep my thoughts on track. Isabelle walked me up the stairs like I was two and shoved me—not so gently, I might add—into my bedroom.

"Your outfit for the party is on your bed. I want to see before you come out," Isabelle ordered.

"Of course, your highness," I said, bowing sarcastically.

Isabelle left with a scowl on her face. I threw my t-shirt on the floor and walked into the bathroom. I stripped and stepped into the shower. I turned the water on warm, letting the water massage my sore muscles. After a few minutes of relaxation, I moved on to washing my hair and body.

The whole process took seven minutes in total and I came out smelling like Axe. _Hope she likes Axe_, I thought before I could stop myself. I towelled off my body and wrapped it around my waist. I went to go see what Isabelle had set out for me, hoping it wasn't a suit or something like that. If Isabelle had her way, I'd probably be wearing one every day like they do at boarding schools . . .

To my pleasure, Isabelle had laid out jeans (instead of dress pants) and a plain gray t-shirt. Nothing fancy, thank God. I got dressed into the outfit Izzy picked out for me and proceeded to towel off my hair and get it in somewhat array. Once I was satisfied that Isabelle wouldn't kill me for how I looked, I stuck my head into the hall.

"Iz! Ready for inspection!" I shouted.

She shouted back a reply and I picked up the little package on my bed. _Cologne_, I realized, taking in the shape of the package. I had assumed she'd trust me to pick out my own, but no. She bought me a new one. I opened the package and sniffed the bottle, making sure Isabelle didn't pick out a feminine perfume instead of a cologne. Nope, definitely cologne.

"I see you found the cologne," Isabelle said with a smile, walking into my room.

I nodded at her. "Yep. See I'm wearing the outfit you picked," I said, taking the cologne bottle out.

"Aww, you're such a good boy. Do you want a cookie?" Isabelle asked sarcastically.

I smiled at her and sprayed the cologne. She cringed away and shot me a disdainful look.

"Careful with that! I'm wearing _Outspoken_ by Fergie, I don't want your _Usher_ by Usher on me!" Isabelle cried.

I looked at the bottle, surprised that she was able to list of the name that easily. But, then again, she _is_ Isabelle. Iz left and gave me instructions to be downstairs in five minutes. I placed my laptop on my bed and clicked on my iTunes icon. I selected a random playlist and turned the volume up. I checked my emails, surprised to see one from Kaelie.

_Jace-y ive been sick with the flu. im sorry i didn't tell u earlier but daddy wouldn't let me touch anything cuz he thought it might spread. im off to the beach house with Rach and Camille but I'll call u when i get back. cya monday. Kaelie. xoxoxoxoxoxo 3_

I frowned at the email and deleted it, moving on to the more important messages. I sorted out the junk mail and looked at the time, figuring I was late enough to make Isabelle freak. I turned my laptop off and walked down the stairs.

I walked into the living room and saw Isabelle sitting on one of the couches with a red haired girl who looked like a supermodel. The girl was wearing a deep green dress that went down to her mid-thigh and had a black bow around the waist. I couldn't see the front of her dress but I was pretty damn sure that it was low cut.

"Jace, so kind of you to finally join us," Isabelle said, staring me down. She was wearing a dark purple dress that was so clingy it reminded me of Kaelie.

"See Clary, I told you he'd show eventually," Isabelle said to the girl.

I did a double take. The girl was _Clary_? As in, the girl living next door with King of the Dorks Simon Lewis, _Clary_?

"Aw, Clary, you knocked him speechless. Trust me, that's quite the accomplishment," Isabelle said, snickering at me.

I was about to make a smart remark when the door bell rang. "Be a doll and get that Jace?" Iz asked sweetly. I didn't answer, just walked over to the door and let in the people who showed me their 'passes'. That was Isabelle's idea, to have a guest list and hire a guard to keep out the unwanted.

Alec appeared soon after and turned up the stereo. Isabelle had plugged her laptop into the sound system and it was playing her party playlist. Sometime after ten, a couple of guys on the football team stopped by, bringing a keg of something with them. I frowned at it, even thinking about alcohol made me sick to my stomach. I guess my father's habits really did affect me, just not in the way people would expect.

I was sitting on the couch around midnight, half talking to one of the cheerleaders when Clary stumbled over, looking like she was going to be sick.

"Had too much?" I asked as she sat down beside me. The cheerleader I was talking to, Leah I think, gave Clary a look and walked off.

"No, I just watched Isabelle make out with Simon in your pool. For _ten minutes straight_. I didn't know they could hold their breath for that long!" Clary exclaimed.

I gave her a confused look. "The pool isn't open yet . . ." I said.

Clary took a deep breath and shook her head. "Oh God, I need a distraction, I think I'm gonna puke," she said, taking deep breaths, purse-lipped breathing.

"Whoa, Fairchild, not on me," I exclaimed, scooting over. She shot me an exasperated look and shook her head.

She scooted over to sit beside me. "Stay still Lightwood. I need a pillow," she said, leaning on my shoulder. I frowned at her, not sure whether to be insulted or neutral. She lay their like that for a few minutes and the firework show in the back yard cleared the room for us.

"This is nice. I think it's the first time you've acted totally human," Clary noted, turning her eyes to meet mine.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Good to know. I didn't know that I was human," I replied, taking in a deep breath.

"Hmm, me either, but now we both do. Aren't you happy I came along and enlightened you?"

"Oh yes, so happy," I shot back.

Clary sat up. "You know, Cam told me that you suck at kissing and the reason you don't keep your girlfriends for more than a month is because they get tired of it," Clary told me, sounding truthful.

_This is your chance_, I thought to myself. "Want to test out that theory yourself?" I asked.

Clary leaned into me. "Sure," she breathed. I leaned in, about to kiss her, when the door opened.

A figure stepped inside. "Hey Jace. You're the same as you used to be, always alone in a dark room with your best friend's girl," the figure said.

I froze. There was no way he could be back. I didn't believe it. It couldn't be possible. It wasn't . . .

**Sooooo . . . Love it? Hate it? Review it! First 5 people to review and answer this question will get an excerpt of the next chapter. So here's my question: What do you think Clary's reaction to the visitor will be AND What,s your favourite Point of View in the story so far? The faster you review, the more inspired I'll be, which means the faster the next chapter will be up. xoxo Tally Cullen95**


	9. Lucky Stars

**Heyy! I COMPLETELY forgot this last chapter: THANK YOU! You are all AWESOME! What are we at, like 90 reviews? That's awesome. Amazing. Spectacular. Stellar. Do you know how great getting that many reviews feels? let me tell you, it's like Christmas + Birthday + Summer Vacation great. Like CHOCOLATE great. Sorry, that was probably really stupid, but you get my point. You all rock. AND A HUGE THANK-YOU TO MY BETA rozahath! SHE'S AMAZING! IF YOU GET A CHANCE, MESSAGE HER TO LET HER KNOW HOW AWESOME SHE IS FOR EDITTING THIS!**

**Next point. A huge SORRY! I owe you all an apology for my rant on anonymous reviewers! I love all of you guys and I didn't mean to insult anyone! Thankfully, the person I was mainly ranting **_**at**_** 'D' a.k.a FreakyWerid, wasn't too offended by my rant. Btw, thank you (FreakyWerid) for PM'ing me back. I feel so guilty for ranting. I swear, I don't rant very often!**

**Anyway, the favourite PoV so far is Jace, so in honour of that, this chapter is all Jace PoV. 100% Jace Lightwood. Yep, it's my personal fave too. Oh and I apologise in advance: I am a girl and have never been in a fight, so therefore I suck at writing them, but I really wanted Jace to get into a fist fight with the mystery visitor, so I apologise if it sucks and makes you want to hit your head against a wall. **

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! (you guys can pinpoint what I own and don't own)**

**Chapter Songs:**

**Hmm, I did this for the first time for the last chapter and I'd really like to continue with it, so here are the songs for this chapter:**

*****_**All to Myself**_**- Marianna's Trench (The fight. Don't know why I chose it, I just love the song and think it sorta matches the mood)**

*****_**Give Him Up **_**- Faber Drive (Isabelle and Clary's talk. You'll understand why)**

*****_**You and I Tonight **_**- Faber Drive (Lots of this band in this chapter (2 of 3 songs) but this song is perfect for the mood at the very end when Jace talks to Clary. You'll see . . . I say that a lot but it's true. I don't want to give too much away)**

9. Lucky Stars

_**Previously on Resurfacing**_

_Clary sat up. "You know, Cam told me that you suck at kissing and the reason you don't keep your girlfriends for more than a month is because they get tired of it," Clary told me, sounding truthful._

This is your chance_, I thought to myself. "Want to test out that theory yourself?" I asked._

_Clary leaned into me. "Sure," she breathed. I leaned in, about to kiss her, when the door opened._

_A figure stepped inside. "Hey Jace. You're the same as you used to be, always alone in a dark room with your best friend's girl," the figure said._

_I froze. There was no way he could be back. I didn't believe it. It couldn't be possible. It wasn't . . ._

**_Resurfacing**Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** Resurfacing** _**

Jace PoV

"Why are you back?" I demanded, skipping hello.

Our visitor gave me a small smirk that rivalled my own. "Oh, Herondale, I'm pretty sure you know why I'm back. I got tired of Europe. Everything is so small, I got tired of having to duck to get into shops," the boy said, smiling angelically.

"Yeah right," I snorted. "You just wanted to see my beautiful face again. And I'm Jace Lightwood now, thank you very much."

Clary looked between the two of us, still leaning against my arm. "Wh—who are you? You look so—so _familiar_," she said, sounding unbelieving.

The boy stepped into the light. "Sebastian Verlac, at your service, milady," Sebastian said coolly.

I glared at him, pulling Clary in closer. "What do you want, Verlac. I'm in the middle of something and you're ruining my mood."

"How would Cam feel if he saw you now? He'd be pissed I bet you. But Cam gets pissed pretty easily. Miss Fairchild, I'm sure he'd be disappointed in you," Sebastian taunted. Clary flinched and he went on. "I'd be careful with him Clarissa—Clary, is it? He goes through girls like you and I go through sheets of paper. He treats them as disposable napkins. One use only, unless they are pretty damn good."

"Shut up, Verlac. You barely know me. We were friend's for what, two weeks? You know _nothing_ about me," I told him, fighting to stay calm.

He smiled a sad smile and shook his dark head. Tendrils of black hair fell over his coal black eyes. "I know lots about you Jace. You're dating your girlfriend Kaelie because her dad is the dean of NYU and he gave you a scholarship. If it wasn't for that, you'd have dumped her after the first day. Your favourite flavour is French Vanilla, but you like the occasional splash of Chocolate or Strawberry. You're the captain of the school's lacrosse team. You play the guitar and piano."

I looked at him with a disturbed look on my face. "Are you stalking me? God, Verlac, that's creepy. I know you're in love with me, I mean who isn't, but I'm not into that kind of thing. I'm straight as a board. If you play for _that_ team though, I'd suggest going for Alec," I said.

Clary coughed and I turned to look at her. "Jace, I should really be going. I need to make sure Simon hasn't drowned or anything. He had a few drinks. I'll see you at school on Monday," Clary said, getting up. She scooted around Verlac and headed for the backyard.

"Seriously, Verlac, what the hell was that for?" I demanded once Clary was out of earshot.

Verlac laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls. "You're quite the player now, aren't you? What's your record? Three girls in one night if I was told correctly. No—it's four isn't it? Yes, that's right. At Rachel Port's New Years Eve party at her step-dad's chalet. They were Anna Hollind, Meya Jones, Kyra Numark, and Bree Graham, am I correct? Anyway, I was just warning the girl, she'll find out eventually. I figured the sooner the better, right?"

I swore at Sebastian. When I was finished, I stood up. "Get out of my house. Now, Verlac. We were friend's once, but clearly you've changed. Get the hell out and stay away from Clary, and Isabelle for that matter. You know, you used to be a pain sometimes but you were a good friend. Why don't you go back to Europe or wherever you were living. You aren't wanted here. You're part of the past and we in New York prefer living in the present."

His dark eyes tightened, narrowing to slits. "You know what Jace? You used to be different, too. I remember you being the kid who cried in the corner and was terrified of girls. You used to spew nonsense about imaginary monsters and cry during naptime. What happened to that kid?" Verlac shot back.

I met his eyes. "He's still here. Inside. But two years at a detention facility-orphanage is bound to change a guy. I miss that kid sometimes, too. He just grew up and became popular and well-off." I said. I put as much remorse and sadness into my voice as I could, hoping that Sebastian was as gullible as I remembered him.

"Really? I don't believe you. You're too different. I haven't seen you since we were seven. To tell you the truth, _Lightwood_, I liked you better before. I know what you've been up to; I have my sources."

That pissed me off. I lunged at him, tackling him over. I had never been much of a football player, but that was a fairly decent tackle. I punched him, hitting his lower jaw. He snarled at me; a guttural, almost feral sound. I narrowed my eyes and looked down at him. I punched his nose, hearing to break with a satisfying crack.

"You idiot," Sebastian growled, rolling over and pinning me to the ground. I dug my nails into his arm to get a better grip and drove my knee in between his legs. Sebastian howled in pain and blindly lashed out at me, catching my cheek with his nail by luck.

I bit down on his hand when it came near my mouth and he screamed again; high and shrill. I laughed at his pain, feeling animalistic and adrenaline-high. I pushed him off me and got up, faster than I thought was possible for me. Seb grabbed my ankles and tried to pull me down. He succeeded and I hit the ground with a slam. He sent punches to my face and rib-cage, some of which would surely bruise.

I breathed out slowly and summoned up all of my strength that came from hours of running suicides and waving a lacrosse stick around. I punched his gut as hard as I could, feeling the impact of my fist on his lower ribs. My vision was tinged with red as I picked one of his hands off of me and twisted his wrist as hard as I could, listening to him scream.

I came to my senses after a few seconds and caught myself, standing up and backing away. "Get out, Sebastian. Now," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. My lower lip was swelling so my words sounded more like: _G'out, S'bast'n. Nwow._ He seemed to get the message.

Sebastian got up slowly, like it hurt him to stand. Which, looking back on what I did, is likely.

"Whatever, Lightwood. Next time you won't win," Sebastian growled, sounding animalistic.

I rolled my eyes at him and watched as he limped out of the house, hugging his rib cage. I made my way numbly to the back yard and located Alec. He was standing with the sparkly guy—Magnus—and drinking a glass of the sparkling lemonade Isabelle bought.

"Jace! What happened? You look like you got run over by a truck!" Alec said, one hand flying to his mouth in shock.

"Thanks, Alec. Nice. Nice way to compliment me. There goes your birthday present. It was really nice too, all red and shiny with a super-powerful engine—"

"Will you just shut up Jace?" Alec said, cutting me off. "What happened?" He stared at me with an upset mom expression that mimicked Maryse's.

"Someone showed up who wasn't on the guest list and decided to piss me off in my own living room. The nerve of some people," I drawled, hoping my words were clear enough for Alec to understand. My head was pounding and I could feel a sharp burst of pain every time I moved my shoulder. It didn't matter much that I was hurt—I would be fine by morning. I always was. I've broken my ankle and wrist a few times and they were always healed by the next day. No point in going to the doctor's, all I really needed was a sling to keep the bone in place while it healed.

"JACE. Stop kidding around. Who was it?" Alec asked, his expression growing dark.

"Sebastian Verlac," I stated, looking around for Clary.

"JACE! I told you, I want to know the truth. Sebastian moved to Europe years ago and no one's heard from him since."

I found Clary standing with Izzy and Nerd Boy, a scolding look on her face.

"He's back Alec. Now, good bye," I said, taking off before he could grab my arm and pull me back.

I made my way over to where Clary was standing with my sister. They were by the pool and I could see the place where the pool cover ripped the grey-ish water underneath. Isabelle was dripping wet and the boy beside her was too, except his face was much, much redder.

"—can't believe you would do something so stupid! Yeah, you were punch-drunk, blah blah blah. That _doesn't_mean you should make out on a flimsy _pool cover_!" Clary was lecturing. Iz went red at that statement and stared at her feet. As I walked closer, I could see Isabelle's face dripping off in thick black rivers. _She's gonna be pissed. That's her favourite dress,_ I thought to myself.

"Who are _you_ to be lecturing _me_! You're not my mother, you barely know me!" Isabelle cried, outraged. Simon still didn't say anything.

"I'm just trying to be a good friend! You could've drowned! And you, Simon, I expected better. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but last I checked, your swimming skills were a tad short of impressive. You're mom is going to kill you, and then she's going to kill _me_ for not watching you! You _know_ alcohol does this to you! You're lucky nothing worse happened!" Clary burst out, wagging her finger at Simon.

Suddenly, Simon seemed really interested in his ruined shoes. "Shut _up_ Clary. That was one incident! I didn't mean for it to happen! _God_, I _knew_ I'd regret telling you," Simon muttered. Clary narrowed her gaze at him.

"Well _excuse me for caring_! Since when do you two even like each other? At school you act like the other doesn't exist, or like you're too low or high on the high school food chain to talk to them! You know, compared to this place, my school in L.A was an academy for angels. And you'd be surprised how screwed up some of those kids were—half of them had celebrity parents who came home with a new guy or girl every night to do in their massive bedroom! But, you know what, at least they all had the dignity to talk to each other. We didn't have much of a hierarchy, here it's like the _Divine Right of Kings_ is in play or something!" Clary shouted at them.

"Why the hell do you frickin' care! You BARELY EVEN SEE US!" Izzy shouted back. "Simon and I could be hooking up every day at lunch and you wouldn't give a damn! You pay so little attention to us that we had to something like this to bring you back to earth. You think I like hearing you go on and on about how awesome Cam is, or how he's such a good kisser, or how he scored the most awesome job at Hollister or wherever you're working?"

Clary froze, eyes wide open. _Cat fight. Roar,_ I thought, standing behind a plant to stay out of view. "You did this to get my attention? You're stupider than I thought! Why the hell do you care about what I do with who?"

Isabelle shook her head and I sensed that there was something going on that Iz had never told me or anyone else about. "I don't want you to get hurt," Iz whispered, tears dripping down her face.

"Oh-kay, well I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow Clary, and yeah, I guess I'll see you Monday," Simon said, looking uncomfortable. He ran off quickly, leaving a trail of water behind him from his soaking clothes.

The two girls ignored him. "What do you mean, you don't want me to get hurt? Everyone has been really nice to me. They've been kind with getting me caught up and they're really sweet," Clary shot back, defending the seniors. God knows half of them don't deserve it.

"Yeah, they're nice now, but just you wait Clary. They're all jealous bitches and the longer you're with them, the further you slip away from us! From me, from Simon!" Isabelle cried, her face almost all black from tears.

"Iz, I think _you're_ the jealous bitch! You know _nothing_ about them, _nothing_! No one wants to hurt me, if anything they all treat me like a little sister. We're practically _family_!" Clary insisted.

Isabelle shook her head. "No, Clary. You don't understand. _Some_ of them are nice, really nice. I understand that. Cam's one of them, I've known him for, like, _ever_. I've been friends with his little sister since kindergarten. Who you could've met by now if you'd sit with us at lunch or hung out with us after school. Cam moved fast to get you. He got you within a day of you getting here. That's a record or something. You were a commodity, like a diamond. Shiny and pretty, but nothing but an accessory. Something to wear to show your status. You don't want to be his diamond Clary. You don't want to be _any_one's diamond," Izzy cried in exasperation.

Clary's glare darkened. I shifted my position to get a better view, trying not to jostle my healing shoulder too much. I could already feel the bones fixing themselves, just like always. I don't know why my body heals like this, but I have a hunch my father was probably spearheading the endeavour. _Let's make my son invincible so I can hurt him as much as I want and all but the worst of injuries will heal so he has no physical proof I ever hurt him._

"I'm not Cam's diamond, Iz. He loves me. He told me that himself before he left. He tells me every day, too, even when there are other people around," Clary said defensively. _She doesn't get it, does she? She doesn't understand that Cam is still with his old girlfriend Kaye and that she is who he's with this weekend in Florida_.

"You don't get it, do you? You don't understand that Cam is still with his old girlfriend, Kaye, who lives in Florida. _WhereLexis has a dance competition_," Isabelle said carefully, her words echoing my thoughts.

Clary shook her head. "No, no he wouldn't do that. He told me they were over. Like _way_ over. He wouldn't lie to me. Cam _doesn't lie_," Clary seethed, denying the hard facts. Step one, denial. Step two, anger. Step three, acceptance.

"Clary, Cam lies. Cam lies as easily as peanut butter spreads on bread. Okay, that was a stupid comparison, but you get my point. You plus Cam equals a big mistake. I'm not a jealous ex or anything, I'm just saying it like it is," Isabelle said, tacking on a weak laugh after the peanut butter and bread comparison.

"So they _all_ lie? Does _Jace_ lie?" Clary asked. My heart skipped a beat. _Why is she bringing me into this_?

"No, they don't _all_ lie, but the popular ones do. And as for Jace, A) keep my brother out of this conversation, and B) Jace doesn't lie. Ever. He tells horrible truths, but he won't lie. Never has and I don't think he ever will. He will twist his words in a million different directions, but he won't lie. not unless it's a life or death situation."

I froze, thinking about how wrong Isabelle was. I lied all the time. I lied about finishing my homework, I lied about cleaning my room. I lie about feeling okay when some days I want to curl up in a ball in my bedroom and scream at my deceased father for being such an asstard.

"So are you saying that I should be with Jace, Miss Lightwood? I'm pretty sure your brother could get any girl he wanted, what with his looks and cocky attitude," Clary said. I froze again. _you're wrong about that Clary. I can't get any girl I want. I can get the easy ones, but not the decent ones who want more than a good one night stand. I want_you_but I can't have you because I won't ever be good enough. For you, for anyone. I'm doomed to a future of loneliness and solitude. I can't be close to anyone. It's too dangerous. I like you a lot and I wish I could have you, but I know you're worth more. You're not worth someone who hurts everyone they come in contact with._

"That is exactly what I'm _not_ saying. Jace is as much of a jerk as the rest of him. Not a lying jerk, but a jerk none the less. What I _am_ saying is that you should date someone _our_ age. Not some stuck up senior who wants you the same way I want a new pair of _Louboutin_ pumps. Please, Clary, I just don't want you to get hurt. Please think about what I said. I'll see you Monday," Isabelle said, leaving Clary standing alone by the pool.

I took a deep breath, thinking _this is my last chance_. I walked over to Clary, carefully keeping my shoulder in place as the bones mended themselves back together.

"I heard Iz just gave you a lecture," I said casually, pleased that since the swelling in my lip was gone I could talk properly.

"A damn good one," Cary said, not looking at me. I placed my hand on her shoulder gently.

"Izzy likes to chew people out. I think it's her favourite hobby. Trust me, you're just lucky you don't have to live with her. I get yelled at if my cologne doesn't match the scent of her perfume," I said.

Clary turned to look at me. "God, Jace, did you get run over by a herd of bulls?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I just defended your honour."

"Yeah, right Jace. You're no hero. I know that. You probably picked a fight with the guy who walked in on us on the couch. I should probably thank him, he saved me from being pulled under by you."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You don't want to thank him. I think he did it because he wants you for yourself. You should really be careful with who you trust and thank Clary," I said truthfully.

"Screw that Jace. I know your intentions now. I'm done being a diamond. I'm not an accessory, not a trophy for you to add to your collection."

"So you're Cam's trophy? Cam's diamond? He's seeing Kaye this weekend. They're probably doing it as we speak. Or they're making out in the back of some club. Lexis dances, yes, but Cam _never_ goes to her competitions."

"NO HE ISN'T, JACE! You don't know him like I do!" Clary screamed at me. _You have to calm her down_, I thought.

"Clary, I've known him since kindergarten. I'd know if he was broken up with Kaye. They're together. He bought a ring for her. It's their fifth year of dating anniversary," I told Clary. _Truth is hard to swallow, but hard truths are even worse. They choke, they strangle. They kill_.

"_No,_ Jace! No, he—he wouldn't. He wouldn't. Not to me. That sick asshat! Why the hell would he do that? I'm not a trophy, I'm a human being. Oh, God, Jace I—I'm so sorry!" Clary cried, slumping into my arms in defeat. Step two, anger. Step three, acceptance.

"Clary, shh, it's okay. You're okay. I've got you. I swear on my life that I won't let anyone hurt you. Never, ever, ever, as long as I live," I told her, running my hand through her curls.

"Thank you, Jace. You and Isabelle are the best. Cam is going to be so sorry he did this on Monday," Clary sobbed.

I held her there for a minute as she cried. Most of the guests were either passed out on the patio or leaving. We were practically alone. Again. _One last try, Lightwood. This time, ask for her permission_.

"Clary, do you want to sit down? The patio furniture is more comfortable than standing," I told her. Clary nodded and I led her to the patio couch. I sat down with her beside me and put my arm around her. She leaned on my good shoulder and stared up at the sky.

"You can see the stars tonight," she noted, pointing to the Big Dipper.

"Yeah. Usually you can't, but tonight is so clear," I replied, taking her hand in mine and tracing swirling patterns on her hand and wrist.

We lay there staring at the stars for at least ten minutes when Clary let out a gasp of surprise. "What is it Clary? Are you okay?" I asked, worried for a minute.

The red head laughed and snuggled in closer to me. "No, no I'm fine, Jace. I can see a shooting star. Make a wish!"

I looked to where she was pointing with her finger. _I wish for one chance to show you how much better I am. I wish I could prove that I'll never hurt you._

The star faded out of view and Clary nudged my shoulder. "Did you make a wish?" she asked, sounding curious.

I nodded. "Yes, I did. What did you wish for, Clary?" I asked back.

Clary looked nervous for a minute. "Jace, I wished for this."

Clary brought her face to mine and positioned her lips across from mine. I could feel her breath against my lips and smell her sweet scent. "A chance to try this," she said, placing her lips gently on mine. I deepened the kiss and wrapped my arms around her. Her hands tangled in my hair and played with the tips of it.

I pulled her on top of me so she was sitting in my lap and when we paused to breath I could see her smiling. I smiled back and pulled her in for another round. Our lips moved together and Clary pressed her body t mine, her hands in my hair once more.

"You know, " she panted, out of breath, "Cam was wrong." I kissed her nose gently and helped her up. "Good night, Jace."

I gave her one last light kiss on the lips. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow. I want to talk about something with you," I told her.

She nodded and walked off, looking back at me every so often to give me a secret smile. All I could think was: _How do I deserve this_? Either way, I was going to be the best I could for her and thank my lucky stars.

**Taaaa-daaa! So what did you think? Did my fight scene suck? Where the characters OOC? I liked this chapter because we get the bad-ass Jace who fights Sebastian and the softer, sweeter Jace who kisses Clary. Oh, speaking of kisses, what did you think of the one at the end? I'm not sure how that one turned out because I wrote it in a rush, so I hope it was okay-ish. **

**For an excerpt: First 5 people to review and answer 1 or more of these questions wins an excerpt! 1) Who is your favoured 'Jace' actor? (rephrase: what actor do you think is most fitting to play Jace if TMI was a movie?) 2) How do you think Jace and Clary will get back at Cam? 3) Where do you think Jace should take Clary for their 'first date'? AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST 4) What trouble do you think Sebastian is going to cause?**

**Kay, so REVIEW! **

**xoxo, Tally Cullen95**


	10. We Frickin' Kissed

**Hey! I'm gonna start this off with an apology so if you hate my super-long apologies feel free to skip to the next paragraph. Here it goes: I AM SOOOOOO SORRY! Honestly I have been so busy! I swear I've been swamped with homework (mostly math and French) and with my extra-curricular activities I have so little down-time to write. I got hit with a massive case of writers block last week and I could barely think at all when I sat down to the computer. But it's better now, much better. So hopefully this chapter makes up for the über-long wait.**

**Okay so my apologies are over and now I can get on with this authors note. This chapter didn't turn out as great as I hoped, but I like the way it went. The twist at the end of this chapter was a spontaneous idea that came in to my head two seconds before I was going to turn the computer off. It complicates things and makes this a cliff-hanger. Sorry. I'll try to update as soon as I can so the cliffy-ness of this isn't too painful.**

**Disclaimer: If you've been paying any attention to my past disclaimers you'd know what I own and don't own. **

**Chapter Songs:**

***** **_**Realize-**_** Colbie Calliat (it makes sense with what Clary is thinking in the first part)**

*******_** September-**_** Daughtry (for the scene where Jace is dreaming, up to when he picks Clary up)**

*******_** Teenage Dream-**_** Katy Perry (Clary and Jace's date-first two destinations)**

***** **_**Please Don't Go-**_** Mike Posner (the third destination for Clary and Jace's date up to the end)**

**ENJOY THE CHAPTER!**

10. We Frickin' Kissed

Clary PoV

_We kissed. We frickin' kissed. I think I'm gonna die._ The kissed replayed itself in my head. Jace leaning in to kiss me, the moonlight turning his golden hair silver. His amber eyes staring into mine. Him holding me in his strong arms, bruised face leaning down to meet my lips.

I had never been kissed like that. I mean, don't get me wrong, Mark was a _great_ kisser, but Jace was . . . he was just _better_. Like the god of kisses or something. And I was going to see him again.

My heart beat fervently in my chest as I thought about seeing him again. Random thoughts, like what I'd wear, and where he'd take me, spun around in my brain. _This is insane, Clary. How do you know that Jace doesn't want you for the same reason Cam did, or even just to get back at his friend?_ a part of my brain asked. I shoved that part aside. I couldn't think that way. I didn't want to think that way. Jace was like a pain killer for me. He numbed the ache in my chest and kept me distracted from thoughts of my ex-family and that Sebastian kid who showed up at the party last night.

_Sebastian. S********. Verlac. ***l**._ I shot up in my bed and blindly searched for my laptop. I found it charging on my bedside table and turned it on. The bright light from the screen blinded me and I shut it until my eyes adjusted. The party had gone until two o'clock last night and it was only six thirty now. I should've been tired, but I was too awake. Too excited.

Able to see again, I logged in to my desktop and waited for my Internet connection to load. I clicked it and was sent to my homepage, which was luckily my email. I searched through the junk mail until I found the message. Capital S. E. B. A. S. T. I. A. N. New word. Capital V. E. R. Lowercase L. A. C. It could fit. I reread the message, trying to picture the boy I met yesterday saying them. Based on what he did to Jace, I wouldn't put it past him to do that. _And he knew my name_.

I took a deep breath. _Calm down, Clary. No sense getting yourself worked up over nothing. And that is what this is. Nothing. No freaking thing. Just a joke. An accident._ My mind liked to run away with itself. My mom used to say it was because I was an artist, but I was starting to get the impression that I was just crazy.

I turned on a lamp and grabbed my sketchbook. Sketching always helped me to calm down. It was like a creative outlet. Some people swear every letter of the alphabet, I draw. I plugged head phones into my laptop and clicked on my iTunes. I had a playlist of my favourite, most inspirational, songs that usually helped me focus on what I was drawing. I scrolled through it until I found a soft song and pressed play, feeling a little better as soon as the music started pouring through the headphones.

I found my sketchbook under my pillow and grabbed a charcoal pencil from my drawer. I put the pencil to the page and let the song guide my hand. I drew a rough sketch of field, complete with flowers and trees lining it. I then turned my attention to the focal point.

I closed my eyes and sketched, letting my hand lead instead of my eyes. I was swept up in a sea of memories. Jace, staring at me when I first met him in the Lightwood's basement. Jace glaring at Cam when he found out Cam had invited me to lunch. The look of shock on his face when he saw us kissing and how he acted to nonchalant, but I knew that his feelings were anything but . . . Jace presenting his past to the class with pain written across his golden eyes in a neon sign. Jace and I almost kissing on the couch. Jace and I kissing outside. A sea of Jace, Jace, Jace. _Oh God, Clary, you've got it bad_, I told myself, drowning in the sea of memories and feelings. _Love makes you weak_. _Love makes you weak. Love makes you weak_ . . .

I opened my eyes and looked at the page. _Love doesn't make you weak. Love makes you strong enough to deliver the final blow, to sail across the ocean and win a battle. Love is a driving force, not a weakening one. Love is the bittersweet taste of coffee in the morning. Love is strong, self pity is weak_.

On the page I had drawn Jace, shirtless (not that I even knew what he looked like shirtless) and with huge feathery wings. _He looks like an angel_, I thought. _An avenging angel, albeit, but an angel nonetheless_.

Jace PoV

I turned fitfully in my sleep, scenes from my childhood bombarding me. A scene of me, seven years old, at the detention facility played in my mind like a movie. I stood behind the seven-year-old me like a ghost, unable to be seen by the kids. "Yer so stupid, Jace. That's why no on' wants ye! That couple that came's 'round 'ere today were lookin' to _adopt_, you idiot! Them's wante' to adopt you. But _no-o-o_, you 'ad to go be a baby an' cry in a corner 'cause you lost yer momma," the biggest one said, pushing the younger me. The boy, me, cried when the older kid shoved him hard. His back and head hit the wall. I wanted to stop the scene and throw the DVD at the wall, but it kept playing.

"You gonna start cryin' 'gain, li'l Angel Boy? All ye do's cry. Cry an' hide in them corners o'er there. Hmm, y'know what? That there's a goo' name fer you. Angel Boy. The boy who cries when peoples come to 'dopt him and always says his pleases and thank you's. Pretty manner's ain't gon' get you anywhere today, Angel Boy," the kid said. I remembered him with disdain. His name was Trench and he always spoke with a farmer or ghetto or something like that sort of accent. You know, maybe that's why he was always needing to assert his power.

I watched as the little boy who got pushed stood up, rubbing his head. Trench took the opportunity to grab the boy's wrist and he twisted it with a sickening crack. The seven-year-old me screamed at the top of his lungs. He held the injury gingerly and cradled it to his chest. "Now you've been injur'd for what ye believe in too, jus' like all them other Angels," Trench said. "Bu' I wond'r, what kinda name's _Jace_? Doesn't sound too angelic to me. I'd of named you something more feminine. Like Faith or Joy." The kid's surrounding Trench laughed and the little Jace ducked under the nearest bed.

I sat up in my bed, thankful that the scene was over. The sun was peaking in through the window and I looked over at the clock. Nine thirty. I gaped at it. _Nine thirty_? That meant I had a little less than half an hour to get ready. "How the hell can I sleep in on a day when something important is happening and not on a regular day?" I muttered to myself as I stood up and walked over to my bathroom, braving the cold air. _Who knew March could be so cold_, I thought to myself.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of my dresser with a towel wrapped around my waist. I had just finished the quickest shower I had ever had due to my plans and the fact that all the other Lightwood's used up the hot water, leaving me with nothing but the cold. I opened up my bottom drawer and selected a clean pair of stone washed jeans and was in the middle of putting them (along with a pair of boxers) on when there was a knock at the door.

"Come on in," I said, pulling them up and doing up the fly. Isabelle poked her head in the door and immediately covered her eyes.

"Eek, Jace, put a shirt on would you?" Isabelle said. I shook my head at her.

"Izzy, it's my room, I can wear what I like. Besides, you see me shirtless all the time," I paused and looked up at her through my eyelashes. "And I thought you liked my abs; you seem to stare at them enough when it's not under a shirt."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "God, Jace, can you stop being so egotistical for two seconds? And for your information, I _never_ look at your abs on purpose. I'm basically immune to your charms now. I guess I was exposed too much as a child, just like with the flu."

"Thanks, Iz, I've always wanted someone to compare me to the flu. Now my life is complete. What the hell do you want?" I asked.

"Shirt first," she demanded. I frowned at her and pulled a gray t-shirt out of my drawer and slid it on over my head.

"Better now?" I asked, wanting her to leave.

"Yeah. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Clary," she said, coming in and sitting on my unmade bed.

"Clary?" I asked, squinting at her. _Why does she want to talk about Clary?_

"Yes, Clary. You know, she's short, red hair, _probably a good kisser_, seeing as you made out with her on the deck for about twenty minutes yesterday. You know her. What I want to say is that I'm warning you. If you hurt her, Jonathan Christopher Herondale Lightwood, you will be so frickin' sorry. I just got her to come back to earth, so if you send her spiralling off again I think I'll have to kill you. She's too fragile to handle all of this drama; she just lost her whole family for Christ's sake! So, be nice, or you're dead. Get it, got it, good. Have fun on your date." Isabelle turned on her heel and stomped out, leaving me standing there shell-shocked.

_Hurt Clary?_ Just thinking about it made me want to punch a wall. Who in their right mind would ever be so inhumane as to hurt someone like her? I made my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, finding it empty. There was a note on the fridge addressed to me.

_Jace_, it read, the note written in Maryse's curly handwriting. _Max has karate this morning and I have a few errands to run. Your father got called in to work, something about a huge case that needs to be dealt with ASAP. Alec is at work. There are pancakes in the freezer that you can put in the toaster, or if you prefer, you can go somewhere for breakfast. XOXO. Love, Mom._

I smiled once I had finished reading the note. I was glad that Maryse came home early because she saved me from Isabelle's cooking and another party. I looked at the clock and decided that I would have to take Clary out for breakfast if I was going to eat because there was no way I'd be able to toast pancakes, eat pancakes, brush my teeth, _and_ pick Clary up in three minutes total. I quickly ate breakfast bar and drank a glass of juice before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

As I brushed, the same thoughts kept circulating around my head. _The kiss_. In all honesty, I can't even begin to count what the kiss was on my list. My hundred and fiftieth? Two hundredth? I didn't want to touch on that. It was most certainly the most indescribable. _We kissed. I kissed her and she reciprocated. I wasn't kissing a piece of stone or a pair of lips that left garish red lip stick on mine. I felt something this time, too_.

I've kissed girls before. And the first time, I know for a fact that I felt something, but all the times after that the spark was gone and I couldn't feel anything except for disgust when the girl started licking my face like my cat Church. With Clary, I could picture kissing her every day for the next billion years and always feeling the spark.

I spat one final time in the sink and gargled some mouth wash. I grabbed my wallet as I walked to the front door. I yelled up the stairs to let Iz know that she was on her own, and walked across the lawn to the Lewis' house. We would be taking my car to our destination, but I figured it was a waste of gas to drive two seconds to where Clary was staying. I walked up to the door and rang the bell. Someone yelled something and footsteps echoed. A few seconds later, a woman in her thirties opened the door. She was dressed in a pantsuit and was holding a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Hello, Jace. Clary told me you were coming to get her. She's just upstairs getting ready, you know how girls are. Why don't you come in, I just made blueberry muffins," Mrs. Lewis said welcomingly, motioning for me to come in. I stepped inside and was surprised how different their front hallway looked from the Lightwood's. Where Maryse liked everything in its proper place, Mrs. Lewis didn't seem to care, or was too busy to notice. Jackets lay all over the hall and you were practically tripping over shoes and bags.

"You'll have to excuse the mess, ever since I got my promotion I've barely been home. The kitchen is just around the corner. Simon should be in there watching TV. Feel free to make yourself some breakfast. Anyway, I've got to go, so have a good . . . er, date and don't keep her out too late. Have her back by ten at the latest. " She turned around and cupped one hand around her mouth. "BYE SIMON! HAVE A GOOD DAY! I LOVE YOU,BABY!"

I bit back a snicker and made my way to the kitchen where Simon Lewis was sitting on a bar stool eating tofu pudding and watching _Glee_. "Hey, Lewis," I said, sitting down next to him. Simon looked at me and almost choked on his tofu.

"You . . . what . . . but . . . I thought . . .what happened to . . . Huh?" Simon sputtered, forcing himself to swallow. I smirked at him and took a blueberry muffin off the tray.

"I'm Clary's date. I thought you were smart, Lewis. Read between the lines, much? Oh and these muffins are _great_," I told him, tossing a piece of muffin up in the air and catching it in my mouth. Simon glared at me and muted the TV, cutting off Dianna Agron and Chord Overstreet mid-song.

"Why is she going out with _you_?" Simon asked incredulously. I shrugged and took another bite of muffin. "I mean, Clary doesn't hop between dates that quickly. Yeah, she's from Los Angeles and all, but I've never known her to flit around that much. And with _you_ of all people!"

I gave him another shrug. "Why _not_ me. you've hated me ever since you moved here, Lewis. And I've never been able to figure out why. Care to enlighten me?"

Simon turned bright cherry red. "You know when you just don't like someone? Like you get a feel in your gut that they're _not right_? Well, that's why I don't like you. You're _not right_." I shook my head and was about to push him further when _she_ came in the room.

"Simon, do you know where my wallet is? I could've sworn I put it somewhere he— Oh, hi," Clary stopped mid-sentence when she saw me. "You're here already? Wow you're early!"

I smiled at her and hopped off the stool. "Yeah, sorry if I'm early. It was just me and Isabelle in the house and she was about to bake cookies, so I figured I'd escape_ before_ I got covered in cookie dough," I said, taking her hand. "You don't need your wallet, I'm paying for _everything_. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I just need to put my shoes on." She turned to Simon and patted his cheek. "Don't blow up the house while I'm gone. And Simon, seriously? You couldn't find a more manly show to watch? I'm starting to question your masculinity."

I laughed as Clary turned on her heel and left Simon turning purple. "IT IS SO MASCULINE! IT HAS FOOTBALL IN IT!" he shouted down the hall.

"MOSTLY SINGING! AND GOOD-BYE SIMON!"

Clary put her shoes on and I led her across the yard to my car. She hopped in the passenger seat and I started driving to our first destination. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going or is it a surprise?" she asked as I rolled the windows down. She looked like a million bucks bathed in sunlight like that. Her hair shone like flames and the green tank top she was wearing made her eyes look like emeralds.

"Sort of a secret. Don't worry, you'll like it. I found this place as soon as the Lightwood's adopted me. I used to walk there from school every day and just talk to random people. It's only our first destination, though. I have a few planned."

Our first destination was brunch at Taki's. Most of the wait staff were surprised to see that I was with someone other than Kaelie, which reminded me that I would have to break up with her as soon as possible. Maybe even publicly, just for fun . . .

Clary and I sat at a table and one of the new waitresses took our orders. I had her bring me my 'usual' and Clary ordered pancakes and a large coffee. "Skip breakfast?" I asked her.

She nodded. "Simon scares me when he watches TV. He even _sings along_ sometimes. Oh and if anyone asks, I'll deny telling you anything."

I laughed under my breath at her death glare as the waitress brought us our food. My fires looked awesome and I could smell Clary's pancakes from across the table. Taki's might look like a prison, but the food was spectacular.

"He sings along? Like, when they do?" I asked once the waitress was gone. Clary stared into her coffee and her face flushed. She muttered something that sounded like _yeah_.

"Again, if you repeat this I'll have to kill you, sometimes I think he likes watching Kurt so he knows how to come out," Clary giggled, her face turning a dark shade of pink.

I laughed. "You know, now that I think about it, maybe that's why Magnus likes to make Alec sit through it with him."

Clary gave a confused look. "Alec plays for that . . . team?" she asked, biting her lip nervously.

I chuckled under my breath. "Alec? For sure. He's got a boyfriend. But he isn't out. He is very much locked in a steel closet. Of course, nothing gets past Maryse and Robert but they're waiting for him to tell them himself. Anyway, enough about my brother. Why don't you tell me more about you. honestly, you're a mystery to me."

"Oh, _I'm the mystery_? What about you, Mr. Cryptic? I know nil about you. Nothing. Nada. If I have to tell you about myself, you're going to tell me about you," she demanded, looking like an executive about to seal a business deal.

"Fine. You tell me one thing about you and then I'll tell you something about me. Deal?" I stuck my hand out, feeling very much like I was signing a contract. Clary shook my hand with a firm look on her face.

"Deal. Okay, so what do you want to know? Anything in particular?" she asked me, a mischievous look on her face.

I worked to keep mine blank. Of course I wanted to know about her previous boyfriends, any guy would. Not that I'd let that on. "Anything. Friends. Family. Whatever you want to tell me."

She let out a deep breath. "Okay, well I have a scar on my arm from when my mom took me to the top of the Eiffel Tower to watch the sunset with her and I knocked one of her glass paint jars off her table. One shard got stuck in my arm but I was so upset about possibly ruining her art that I forgot to tell her it wouldn't come out. I told her later that night when we were back in our hotel and the cut turned out to be so severe that I needed stitches." She flipped her arm over for me and pointed to a thin, wiry line of raised skin.

_She wants to play the scar game_, I thought. I might as well tell her about my dream, it seemed fitting. "When I was seven I lived in a detention facility/orphanage. It served as both for most of the boys. It was supposed to be a manners school, but couples hardly ever decided to adopt. When I was seven one couple heard about me from the owner of the facility or something and came to see if they'd like to adopt me. I took one look at the man and he looked so much like my father that I turned right around and hid under a bunk bed. I just didn't want another father, I saw them as people whose only joy in life was to injure their children.

"The other kids really wanted to get rid of me so when they found out that I hid from the couple, they forced me out of my hiding spot and the biggest one who hated me the most hit me and broke my wrist. I have a really small scar on my wrist from where one of the broken bones pierced through my skin. I was too scared to tell anyone because they would punish the kid and once his punishment was over he'd come back for me. So I set of back in place really carefully and just pretended I was fine. Within an hour, the bones were all back in place and my wrist was healed. The only remainder of it is this scar." I showed her the little raised square on my wrist bone.

"Oh my God Jace. You're like a medical miracle or something. Is that how your bruises from yesterday are gone?" she asked me, touching my face tentatively.

I stuck a few fries in my mouth and nodded as I chewed. "Yeah, I guess so. I don't know why I heal like that, but it's really helpful with lacrosse because I broken bones and been able to play the next game," I said after I swallowed. I took a big sip of my Mountain Dew as Clary thoughtfully finished off her pancakes.

"Wow, that's great. Congrats on making lacrosse team captain, by the way," she said. We finished our food and I flagged down our waitress. I paid and tipped her, and then I led Clary out to the car.

"Where are we going next?" she asked. I opened her door for her and motioned for her to get in.

"You'll see," I told her, grinning. I started the car and pulled out of the parking lot

"Pretty please with strawberries and sugar on top?" she asked and I could hear the pout in her voice. I resisted the urge to look over and shook my head at her.

"No deal. It's a surprise," I drawled, turning the radio on.

"Fine then. I'll sing to this at the top of my lungs until you tell me," Clary huffed, taking a deep breath. She belted out the first few words purposefully off-key and I covered one of my ears with my hand.

"Fine, fine. I'll tell you. Just stop singing!" I said. She smirked at me. "You're a surprise ruin-er. And a song ruin-er. I'll never be able to hear this song the same ever again. We're going to the bowling alley. Happy?" I demanded, pasting a fake frown on my face.

"Yep!" Clary said, her face lighting up like a child's on Christmas morning. "I kick ass at bowling."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Oh yeah? Why don't we make it a competition? You can pick the prize since I chose the location."

She smiled at me like I just bought her a diamond ring. "Bring it on. How about the loser has to get down on one knee and beg the winner for a kiss."

I nodded and we shook on it. I pulled into the bowling alley parking lot. The Downtown Bowling Alley was one of the nicer places to bowl in New York. A friend of the Lightwood's owned the place and had booked an alley for me, and the place was decorated nicely (Maryse was hired to decorate it) unlike most of the run-down alleys.

"This place is gorgeous!" Clary exclaimed as we entered. She spun around in a circle, taking in the whole building.

"Thank Maryse when you get home, she designed it." I led her to the counter and paid for the shoes and alley.

2 hours later . . .

We played a total of three games, with me winning the first two and her winning the last because she used a secret weapon on me every time I went t take my turn. She'd start playing with my hair and whispering absolute gibberish in my ear, but whatever she was doing did its job, distracting me.

I won, of course, so as the bet went she had to beg for a kiss. But I didn't want to take my prize at the alley. I had another destination for us in mind. One that I needed to take my prize at. I turned the radio on to distract Clary from where we were going .The night before I had thrown an extra lacrosse stick in the car just for this.

I drove to the arena and saw that there were already cars there. I parked in the staff parking lot and pulled Clary away from the radio. I unloaded the car, throwing the bag over my shoulder. "Come with me, Miss Clarissa," I said, offering her my hand.

"Where are we going Jace? Do you need to coach, because I can call a taxi . . ."

I smiled at Clary and her look of curiosity turned to nervousness. "No way Jace. No way in hell. You can go coach, I'll watch you."

I shook my head and pulled her arm. "No I can't let you go. I still have to collect my prize."

Her eyes became dark and I realized what I had just said. "No Clary! I didn't mean it like that! I swear I'm not using you! I just wanted to introduce you to the kids I coach. They're adorable!"

Clary shook her head. "It's okay Jace. I know you didn't mean it. It's just . . .I don't feel comfortable doing this. I know that he's cheating on me, but I'm not easy. I don't go out with every guy I meet. I swear I'll give you a second chance after I dump Cam. But this doesn't feel right. You're cheating on Kaelie too and if she finds out, I'm going to get trampled on by a bunch of—"

I cut her off by placing my lips on top of hers. I kissed along her jaw until I found her ear. "You're right Clary. I'm really sorry. I'm rushing things, and I now that. I've never been with anyone like you. You're decent and a good person. I'm sorry if I ever implied you were anything else."

I kissed my way back to her lips and pulled her tight to me. I was holding on to the most wonderful thing in my life and I had no intention of letting go.

It was Clary who broke the kiss first. She put her finger to my lips and took a deep breath. "Jace, I'm sorry for deciding this now. I should've told you earlier that I was uncomfortable. I'll give Simon a call and have him pick me up. You go coach your team. I'll see you Monday," she whispered before pulling away from me and putting her iPhone up to her ear.

I sighed and waited until she got off the phone. She gave me a thumbs up and I started walking into the building, feeling dejected. I turned around once to see Clary stepping into an unfamiliar Mercedes. I heard her scream before I saw the driver's face.

I swore to myself and threw my bag into the building. I took off after the car at full speed, following Clary's screams. I lost them at an intersection and closed my eyes in defeat. _What the hell just happened?_ I asked myself. _We frickin' kiss and now a deranged psychopath decides to take her for a joyride in his car. Oh God I am _so_dead when Izzy finds out_.

_But on a positive note, we sorta made out. Actually we frickin' kissed. And it was awesome._

**Okay so there you have it. What'cha think? Good? Amazing? Pure awesome-amazing-ness? NO matter what you think, reviews are welcome. Here's a HUGE thank you to every one who has reviewed this story because thanks to you we're at over 100 reviews! You all rock! I forgot to add this in my authors note at the beginning, but as always, a big thank-you to my spectacular beta rozahath! IF you get a chance, please thank her for putting up with all my mistakes and being the best beta anyone could ever ask for. **

**So for an excerpt the chapter questions are: 1) Who do you think was in the car? 2) Suggestions on how Clary should get back at Cam and how Jace should break up with Kaelie. AND 3) How do you think Valentine and Jonathan are involved in all of these events?**

**Okay, so review and I'll try to update asap!**

**xoxo,**

**Tally Cullen95**


	11. Daddy?

**Hola! Here is the next chapter of Resurfacing! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I was soooooo behind in responding to my reviews, I felt so bad. I hope this makes up for it! **

**Authors Note 13/11/10: THIS IS OFFICIALLY BETA-ED! MY FANTASTIC BETA ROZAHATH JUST GOT BACK TO ME YESTERDAY WITH THE EDITED VERSION SO TA-DA HERE IT IS! ENJOY AND BE SURE TO THANK HER FOR PUTTING UP FOR ALL OF MY MISTAKES! xoxo**

**I hope this chapter is okay because I wrote it while I was home sick last week. I reread it yesterday and it all sounds okay, but if their are a ton of mistakes in it, it's because I was sick with a major headache and chills while I wrote it. Hey, at least my writers block is gone!**

**Anyways, I'm on a PA Day today so I figured that since I'm in a good mood, I'll put all of you in one. I'm like pink bubblegum happy today! Mostly cuz I just watched Glee and made pancakes that didn't stick to the pan! YAY! Okay so I hope you enjoy this chapter. You learn lots about people from it! It's also got both Clary and Jace PoV in it. ENJOY!**

**Chapter Songs:**

*****_My Immortal-_ Evanescence (This song is perfect for the scene, I really suggest you listen to it. This goes for the whole Clary scene)**

*****_One Last Breath_- Creed (This song works well for Jace's emotions, it's a little mellow for him t the beginning but you'll see how it fits.)**

*****_Stuttering-_ Fefe Dobson (For the last scene where Jace talks to - til the end of the scene, you'll see where it goes. I think it should be pretty obvious if you listen to the lyrics)**

**Disclaimer: The characters belong to the wonderful Cassandra Clare, I only own the plot and the characters actions! I don't own any of the chapter songs!**

11. Daddy?

Clary PoV

There was a police glass window separating me from the driver. The car smelled like cigarettes and cologne, and the once black seats were faded to a charcoal gray. My voice was hoarse from screaming at the driver to let me the hell out of the car, and I regretted not wearing water-proof mascara. I lifted my fist to smack the glass again. I punched it as hard as I could, feeling the impact of one of my fingers breaking.

"Dammit!" I cursed, cradling my hurt hand close to my chest. The driver didn't pause, he just continued on driving. "What the hell is your problem? Do you kidnap teenage girls for fun? I'm sorry but I don't have any money on me right now! Answer me!" I screamed, scraping my throat raw.

I slumped down in my seat in defeat. I don't know what had possessed me to get in the car. _It looked like the one Mom used to drive_, my mind pointed out. I told it to shut up and reached into my back pocket, searching for my cell phone. I couldn't find it, so it must've fallen out when the figure shoved me into the car. I never saw their face, but I had a strong feeling that the driver was male. No girl in her right mind would allow her hands to become as calloused as the hands that grabbed me. Those hands had never heard of moisturizer.

The car pulled to a sudden halt and I lurched forward. I looked out the window and saw a ritzy hotel, one with a fountain out front. A hand suddenly wrenched my door open and those calloused hands were on my arms again. A blindfold was tied around my eyes and I tried in vain to pull it off. Those hands continuously pulled mine back down and picked me up bridal-style. I thrashed in my captors grip, failing miserably at getting out.

We went up a staircase and through a set of doors. I could tell we had entered the lobby because there were voices surrounding me. The driver took me into an elevator and we went up. We went through a hallway and finally he dropped me onto a soft mattress. _Oh God, that man put me on a mattress. He could be a rapist . . ._

There were hushed voices talking, one noticeably lower than the other. Footsteps came closer to me and suddenly a hand was on my face. The blindfold was ripped off and I squinted at the bright light.

"Look at me Clarissa," a deep voice said. I sucked in a deep breath and complied, turning towards the direction of the voice. The voice was standing in front of a huge window and the sun poured in, attacking my unadjusted eyes.

"Sit up straight and look at me Clarissa," the voice demanded again. I sat up slowly, blinking a few times to get my eyes to adjust. As my vision cleared, I saw why the voice was so familiar. Standing in front of me was my ex-father.

I was so surprised to see him that I couldn't stop the next words that came out of my mouth. "_Daddy?_"

Jace PoV

"Yes, I'd like to file a police report for a missing person and a captor."

The man regarded me with a surprised expression on his face. "Huh? You want to file a police report? What did your girlfriend run off with her ex during your date?"

I fixed the man a cold glare. "No , she was actually captured. Just give me a report to fill out and I'll leave you to your doughnuts."

"What the hell is your problem, kid? Can't you see I'm busy? Police reports are serious things, you can't just file one because you girlfriend went to the bathroom and escaped through the window to get away from you." He shoved another doughnut in his mouth and scratched his beard. I swore that I could see doughnut crumbs fall out.

"I'm sure you have girls run away from you all the time, but this man reached out and _pulled her into his car_. So give me a damn police report!"

The doughnut-eating man reached into the desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. He placed it on the counter and slammed a pen down on top of it. "There's you damn paper, now go fill it out and then get the hell out of here. I'm warning you, if I find out this is a joke you'll be facing a one hundred dollar fine."

I grabbed the paper and pen, feeling short-tempered and pissed off. _Female. White. Red hair. Green eyes. Approximately 5"1. Name: Clarissa Fairchild_. I checked the boxes and scribbled down the information. I had spent the whole lacrosse practice trying to control my anger and now it felt like it was spinning out of control again. I badly wanted to whack the man at the desk over the head with a crowbar but I didn't really want to face being charged with assaulting an officer. I'd already been down that road once and didn't plan on visiting memory lane. That was years ago, though, and it was a total mistake. Cam and I had been tossing a football back and forth and when I went to throw the football a police officer on a motorcycle came speeding through and got hit in the head with the football.

_The man drove a 1999 Mercedes Benz, onyx coloured with tinted windows. License plate number: VM$ L AW$. Man: White. Over six feet tall. Thick black moustache. Stocky build_.

I signed my name on the dotted line and passed the man the paper. "There it is. Good bye."

He smirked at me and pushed it through another wall to another person to deal with. "Lazy ass," I muttered, unlocking my car. I hopped in and slammed the door, turning the radio up high and making the car go as fast as it could. I dodged through traffic until I got to the public track near the Lightwood's house. I parked my car and took my jacket off. I jogged to the track and began running, pushing myself to go as fast as I could go. _Maybe if I ran faster she'd be here with me_.

I did one lap, two laps, three laps. My breath started coming out in huffs, but I continued pushing myself. Four laps, five laps. I began to feel dizzy and lightheaded. Six laps, seven laps. My pace began to slow but I willed my aching muscles to go faster, work harder. Eight laps, nine laps. I kept going, feeling restless and sore. I ignored the feelings, waiting for myself to go numb like always.

_Now that I finally let feelings in, I get burned. Good one_, I thought. I pushed myself harder, this time running off the track and down the street. I jumped over fire hydrants, not changing my path for anything or anyone. I blocked everything out, focusing on the pain and my anger over letting Clary get taken.

My legs had a mind of their own as I bolted down the sidewalk, turning left. Then right. Around the cul-de-sac. Stop at the dead end.

I bent over, cramping from lack of oxygen. _Breathe._ I took a deep breath and stood up straight. In front of me was the place that all my troubles stemmed from. It looked the same as it always had; uncared for, deserted, overgrown. The only difference was the empty driveway and the unlit basement. The basement used to always be lit up.

I walked up the rotting steps to the once-grand balcony. Céline had liked the balcony to look very welcoming and pristine. It used to be painted a deep shade of royal blue, with white shutters and a white door. I rang the doorbell, hearing the sound I had once feared echo around the empty house. I tried the doorknob; it was unlocked. I pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer, running my hand along the wall. The blue-and-white marquis wallpaper was peeling and you could see the drywall underneath.

I closed my eyes and just walked down the long hallway, letting memories from the past run through my mind. _You used to feel_, they told me. _It's been so long you've forgotten how it feels_. I shook my head, trying to loosen their grasp on my mind. The memories refused to let go and a scene from my childhood clouded my sight.

_"Happy birthday Jonathan. You're six years old now. What do you want?" Father asked me, crouching down to my level._

_I shook my head. "You don't want to know what I want, Daddy." I pouted, knowing how true what I said was._

_"Oh, come on, son. You can tell me. You trust me, don't you?" Father asked, pinching my cheek with his big, rough hand._

_I sighed, knowing that if I didn't tell that he'd hurt me. "I want Mommy to come back, Daddy. I wish that big meanie never hurt her. I miss Momma," I told him, a tear dripping down my face._

_A big hand came down and slapped my face. I dropped to the ground, clutching my throbbing cheek. _I will not cry_, I told myself, blinking to clear the tears._

_"Why do you want her? You only knew her for two years!" Father growled, adding in a bunch of bad words that made my ears ache._

_"I want her because she's my mommy. All the other boys have mommy's that take them to school and pick them up and kiss them when they get hurt. I want Mommy. _My _Mommy," I sobbed, tears dripping down my face._

_Father's face twisted with anger. "You have a mother. Flame. She's almost your mother. She walks you to school, cooks food for you, tucks you into bed at night."_

_I shuddered hearing the nasty lady's name. Flame was Father's friend who lived with us. She was out buying 'special supplies' for Father. I wasn't allowed to touch the 'special supplies'. Flame had big man-hands that pinched me when she grabbed me and a voice that reminded me of nails on a chalkboard. Cam and I raked our nails down the chalkboard once to make the girls scream. Whenever Flame talked, I felt like screaming._

_I shook my head at Father again, which upset him even more. "God damn it, Jonathan! Why the hell do want to see that bitch? She f—"_

_"Shut up Daddy," I said, not believing that those words actually came out of _my_ mouth. My father's jaw dropped, revealing yellowed stubby teeth._

_"JONATHAN CHRISTOPHER HERONDALE! YOU DO _NOT_ TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! I'M YOUR FATHER! DISRESPECT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED IN MY HOUSE!" Father shouted, his hand coming down and whacking my face. The back of his hand hit me right in the eye, and I could feel it swelling up._

_He took a deep breath and looked me right in the eye. "Jonathan, I am very sorry for hitting you. Now, let's not talk about that lady, it'll only upset both of us even more. Flame just went out to buy your birthday cake and get us a special dinner—prime ribs! You love prime ribs. Come along, let's go set up the table for supper."_

_I shook my head and stayed planted. I _hated_ prime ribs. Father loved them. He also loved mocha ice cream cake, which is what Flame was buying as my birthday cake. "I don't like ribs, Daddy. I don't like cake. I don't like Flame. And I think you're a big meanie and even though the police think you're good, I know you killed Mommy. And I told Cam that. He's going to tell his Mommy on you. I _hate _you!" I told him, not sure where the sudden burst of confidence came from._

_Father turned around and grabbed a bottle off the wall. It was empty, of course, and he took it in his hand, like a club, and threw it at me. It soared over my head, hitting the wall and shattering. Shards pierced my back through my thin shirt and I screamed in agony. The last thing I heard before I blanked was Father swearing. "Oh shit_._"_

I shook my head, glad that the memory was over. Just being in this house, confined in these four walls was bad enough. I didn't need a stroll down memory lane to go with it.

"Who's there?" a voice asked, and I stopped dead in my tracks. That voice. That voice sounded _so_ familiar and yet I couldn't conjure a name to match the voice. It was someone from my childhood . . .

"I said, who's there! Answer me or get out!" the voice yelled. I turned the corner, following the sound. The door to the basement was open. In all of my memories of this house, the basement door had _never_ been open. I had always been forbidden to go down there, and knowing what my father had done down there, I wouldn't have wanted visit that place. Curiosity was getting the better of me at the moment though, so I took one last gulp of clean air before I entered the poisoned basement.

The first thing I noticed as I entered the basement was that the air smelled like my father, even though the house had been abandoned for years. I tried not to breathe as much and took the rotting staircase slowly, trying not to make the stairs creak or collapse. Even though I had to focus on the stairs, that one thought kept poking at my mind. _This place smells the same way he always did_, the thought kept saying. I ignored it, which was a better way of saying that I started talking to the voice in my head and telling it to shut up. I'm not crazy at all.

I reached the bottom of the staircase and heard shuffling. "WHO'S THERE? I WILL CALL THE POLICE IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOURSELF THIS INSTANT!" the voice yelled. Yeah, right. Like the guy was going to actually call the police. That would be like turning himself in for breaking into an abandoned house.

I took another quiet step in the direction of the voice. I rounded the corner, staying close to the wall. All of my senses were heightened with adrenaline and my vision was tinged with red, just little starbursts dancing along the edge of my vision. Arms splayed out along the unfinished walls , I crept along. The guy seemed satisfied with the silence and was looking back at the table. I could see his back now, but his face was still covered by shadows.

I let my arms fall to my sides and I slowly walked away from the wall. I was prepared to knock the man to the floor if he posed a threat, something I wouldn't have ever dreamt of doing, but the whole capture this afternoon had me on hyper-alert, like there were people hiding in the shadows.

I walked over to the table, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. That was a bad idea, he growled at me and grabbed it with his hand, wrenching my towards him. "What do you want?" he growled, twisting my arm at an angle that normally would've hurt, but today just made me angrier.

"Get your hand off my arm," I said carefully, trying not to let my anger show through. I covered my features in a mask of nonchalance (metaphorically) and used my other hand to pry his grubby fingers off of my wrist. His grip twisted the skin of my wrist in an extreme Indian Sunburn fashion.

The man turned to face me, rage plain on his face. Streaks of grime ran down his cheeks and his brown eyes bore into mine. _I know those eyes_, I thought. I stared at the man in front of me with as much hatred as I could muster. I liked to think that if looks could kill, this man would be dead. I _wished_ he was dead. I _thought_ he was dead. No one told me otherwise. My life would be better if he was.

"My, my look who we have here! Bet you thought we'd never meet again, huh?" the man said in a friendly voice. He let go of my arm and assumed a lounging position. For some reason I couldn't explain, that simple action made me angrier.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall slowly. Rage flared in the man's eyes. "Why. Are. You. Here?" I asked slowly, as if I was talking to someone mentally challenged. Who knew, with all the things that man had smoked and snorted, his brain might've been permanently damaged. His looks certainly were. His once-blond hair was brown and stringy with grime and his teeth were stubbier than I remembered them to be. He was yellower, too, like someone had attacked his skin with_Crayola _celery-coloured pencil crayon only in paint form. It was sallow, like Alec and Isabelle's great-grandfather's skin at his funeral, all sunken in at the cheekbones and around the eyes.

"This is my house isn't it, Jonathan? You have no claim to it, seeing as once you thought I was dead you completely forgot about me. Newsflash boy: You can't forget me. I'm you _father_. I ain't going nowhere." Father smiled a cruel, sickly smile. It accentuated the fact that he had less teeth than Alec and Izzy's great-grandfather, too. And that man had worn dentures.

I flashed my father the arrogant smile I gave Alec whenever I was going to do something he deemed inappropriate for the occasion. "No offense, no wait, actually I want you to take offense at this, it'll do you good, but my life was better when I thought you were dead. I was _happy_. I was _never_ happy while you were alive. I wasn't even truly happy as a baby, it's like I've always known what a horrible person you were. If memory serves, I bit you as soon as I had enough teeth to actually bite. I used to cry if you were the last face I saw before bedtime. I was such a smart child. Now, what I really want to know is how you faked your death."

Father laughed and broke off coughing. _Serves him right_, I thought viciously. _I hope he coughs up a lung. God knows it isn't doing much better inside him than it would out_. "Wouldn't you like to know. You know Jonathan, we can't always get what we want. Sometimes we _never_ get what we want."

"I know that. For instance, I wanted a father who would play football with me and give me girl advice, but instead I got a crack-head loser who murdered his own wife and experimented on his own son," I spat at him, looking at him with a disgust. When I was younger, parents at school used to say that I was a mirror image of my father. Right now, when I looked at the man who fathered me, I could only see a monster who faked his death and experimented on me without my permission.

"Jonathan, you don't know the whole story. You don't even know half of it. I'm not your enemy. I have a reason for everything I did."

I took a step forward, my hands clenched into fists. "Enlighten me then. Right now. I have a cell phone with me, and if you don't tell me I'll call the police. I'm sure that they'd like to hear this story, too," I flipped my _Blackberry_ out of my pocket and dialed 9-1-1 slowly, giving him a chance to start speaking.

"Jonathan! Okay, fine. I'll tell you. Put the phone back in your pocket and come upstairs with me. I'll put a pot of coffee on and I'll tell you. Just put the damn phone back in your pocket. "

I smiled, knowing that I'd won. "Okay. Let's go. Start walking. I want to hear how you faked your death first. And then I want to know about everything you did to me when I was a kid."

He gulped and started walking up the stairs in silence. I followed him up the creaky staircase and onto the main floor. Small streaks of evening light streamed through the boarded up windows. Stephen walked into the kitchen and started the percolator.

"Talk," I demanded, taking a seat on the moth-eaten couch.

He sighed and sat across from me on the loveseat. "Okay, so I had a deal with one of my clients that if he needed help, I would help him and in exchange he wouldn't turn me in to the police for illegally dealing. He worked with law, you see and had found a loophole that would send me to jail for a triple life-time sentence.

"So about three years ago, he called me up saying that he had a task for me. He needed someone to disappear. So we set up a scene that would render the man dead and me off the radar. We gave the man my car and driver's license and we changed his information to be identical to mine so when the police found his body dead in a ditch, they would think he was me. I couldn't believe it when I heard that it worked. I went to my own funeral! Undercover, of course. No one could know I was alive. That's the story. Are you happy?"

I nodded my head, seeing how this was possible. "What was the man's name. Tell me the man's name or I'll call the police." I brought my phone out again.

"What happened to you, Jonathan? You're different. Hard."

I glared at him. I had heard that two times too many in the last couple of days. "Stop screwing with me. Just tell me their names."

"The man who died was Michael Wayland. The man I had a deal with was Valentine Morgenstern. He's a famous lawyer and Michael was a man who his daughter had told a secret about him about. He needed him gone," Stephen said.

_Valentine Morgenstern_. "You helped that sick excuse for a man? What kind of monster are you?" I asked him, my voice coloured by my disgust.

"Yes, Jonathan! He threatened me! Do you not understand that? It was blackmail! His daughter is safe now, she didn't die. Just the man she blabbed to!" Stephen cried, his sallow face turning red.

"_She's not safe_!" I yelled, anger coursing through me. I lunged over the table and knocked my sad excuse for a father over. The couch smacked the ground and Stephen's head was saved from hitting it by the pillows on the back of the couch.

I took a deep breath to calm myself, not sure where the sudden burst of anger came from. "I want to know what you did to me when I was a child."

Stephen looked shaken from my attack. "Let me up and I'll tell you. I just need to go for a smoke, Jonathan."

I hit the couch with my fist. "Truth first. You can go for a _smoke_ later. I want to hear it now. From the beginning. Leave nothing out. I want the whole truth."

He shook his head at me and lay down on the floor, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "I was seventeen when I met your mother. She was beautiful and perfect. Head cheerleader, Student Council President, Prom Queen, Homecoming Queen, Honour Roll Student. Everything I wasn't. I came from a poor family, while Céline came from a rich one. My parents, your grandparents, died when I was twelve and my older brother raised me. He sold drugs on the street to make money for us to live in a little apartment and to send me to school. I learned how to from him.

"I worked vigorously in our basement to help him, making my own concoctions. Until I met your mother. She came to our house one day fundraising for a school trip to help build houses in South America or Africa. I fell in love with her. She didn't turn her nose up in disgust at our dirty apartment. She offered to help us with our laundry, if you can believe that. She cared about everyone, no matter how rich or poor they were. I decided then and there that I would marry her some day. I worked hard to get good grades and I got a scholarship to the same university she was attending. I worked in a little store on campus to be able to afford books and a dorm room.

"We fell in love and got married on her twentieth birthday. We both finished our schooling and moved to New York, to this very house. She worked hard to fix it up and I had a steady job as a mechanic. The trouble happened when I got laid off. She was pregnant with you at the time and I was pissed that I couldn't support her and you. So I turned to drinking at the bar. Every night, I'd go for a drink. Sometimes I'd stay out all night with the women at the bar.

"That's when I fell back to my old habits. I started dealing from the basement to help pay for your diapers and baby food. On Christmas Eve, I was working down there and you fell down the stairs. One minute it was silent and the next you were crying on the floor. Your mother was out buying food for our Christmas dinner and I didn't want her to think I was a bad father, so I made a call to Valentine Morgenstern. He had sent me a package in the mail called 'Angel Blood'. I told him that I didn't want you to ever be able to get hurt, so he sent it to me.

"I called him, asking how I could use it to help you. He gave me instructions to mix it with the vial of blue blood he had sent me and I put it in a needle. You screamed as it went in, and your screams got worse as the pushed the liquid out of the needle and into you. I was so afraid that the neighbours would hear you, but no one came.

"Your mother heard. She walked in the door with the groceries and heard your screams. I didn't hear her some in, between your screaming and the blood pounding in my ears, I barely heard anything. I didn't know what the stuff was supposed to do, but I did know that you were glowing. Don't ask me what was in it, I only know what he told me. 'It's real Angel blood,' he said. I didn't believe in angel's, but he said it so confidently I had no choice but to trust him.

"Céline told me that she had heard the whole thing that night. I put in a call to Valentine in the morning and he told me that she had to die. That no one could know. So I killed her when your back was turned. You saw me, though. I don't know how, but you saw me. When the police asked you if you knew you said 'Daddy threw the bottle at Mommy' as clear as daylight.

"They laughed at you and told you I was a great man. I was off the hook. But I was mad at you all the time. You were rude to my girlfriend's and you didn't listen to me. I was thankful for Valentine's mixture because your skin healed over all but the worst of scars. Your bones healed themselves. I gave you two more injections of the 'Angel Blood' mixture Under Valentine's orders."

I glared at him. "You let him tell you what to do. You did something to me so that you wouldn't get caught hurting me. Not for my sake, but so I wouldn't have any proof of you being abusive. That's sick. Disgusting. I believe you because your story makes sense, but I swear if I ever see Valentine I am going to kill him, and if I ever see you again I'll do the same to you. "

My father's glazed-over eyes turned to my face. In an eerily calm voice, he said "You don't have to wait. He's coming." Then his eyes closed and his breathing stopped, as if someone was choking him.

I shook him and hit the ground around him. "Stephen, this isn't funny! Father get up! Dad! DADDY!" I cried in anguish. Tears slid down my face, and I cried over the death of the man who ruined my life. I felt like I was two years old again, seeing my mother lying dead on the floor. But this was my father. I hated him. He was the worst thing in my life.

I wiped my face on my sleeve and stood up. I took one last look at Stephen and was about to walk to the door when one of the boarded up windows fell in. A man walked in with a limp girl thrown over his shoulder. _Clary_, I realized. Her red hair was matted around her face and her eyes were bruise-like shadows on her pale face.

"If you want her to live, you're going to have to come with me, Jonathan Herondale."

**Ooohhhh, cliffy! *Hides behind math textbook* Don't hurt me! I'm sorry, two in a row. But they had to happen! If I ended on a happy note, you wouldn't want to read the next fantabulous chapter! So I promise I'll update ASAP!**

**I have to read 'Haroun and the Sea of Stories' by Salman Rushdie for my English class, so as soon as I finish reading the first three chapters of that, I'll finish writing Chapter 12. I have a duet due on Monday for my vocals class (hehe duet) so I've gotta memorize that too but I swear I'll update as soon as I possibly can!**

**So the questions for an excerpt from Chapter 12 are: 1) What do you think is going to happen next? 2) Who is Sebastian Verlac? 3) Who do you think came into the room? **

**Okay, so have a great day and I'll update soon. **

**xoxo,Tally Cullen95**


	12. Captured, Interrogated and Dumped

**Hey! I'm in an all-round fabulous mood today, so it is in that mindset that I'm gracing you all with another chapter. Just joking. This chapter is the longest one yet, so I hope that makes up for me taking so long to update. Second thing, I want to thank you all for your amazing, spectacular, stellar, FANTABULOUS support! Like, I can't take credit for the success of this story—that is ALL you guys. Like, I can't even express how thankful I am to all of you! Okay, I'm gonna stop saying like now. So ya's, I'm in great mood, and I'm listening to CHRISTMAS MUSIC! At the moment I have Kelly Clarkson's rendition of "My Grown Up Christmas List" and I just finished listening to Michael Bublé sing "Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow" I heart Christmas in case you haven't noticed. **

**While I'm in a thanking and loving and hearting mood, I am going to thank my AMAZING BETA rozahath! She puts up with all of my mistakes on a week-to-week basis and I am sooooooo surprised she hasn't sent me a technology slap. But she hasn't, so either I'm getting better with my self-editing check I do before I send her stuff, or she is gifted with both extreme PATIENCE and EDITING SKILLS. I like to think it's the first one, but I'm pretty sure it's actually the second. So, for early-Christmas this year, I'd really really like y'all to send her lots of thank-you's because she's the reason why you can all read my chapters. **

**Hehe, on a totally random note, I've decided to start writing QUOTE OF THE EXCERPT's. The quote will be from totally unrelated works, so I hope you like them!**

**QUOTE OF THE EXCERPT:**

**1. **"You smell good too," said Patch.

"It's called a shower." I was staring straight ahead. When he didn't answer, I turned sideways.

"Soap. Shampoo. Hot water."

"Naked, I know the drill."

—Nora and Patch, Hush Hush, page 63 (Becca Fitzpatrick)

**2. ** "You're supposed to let me count the money first," Marcie said, digging through the chapter, trying to recapture Vee's donation.

"I just assumed twenty was too high for you to count," Vee said. "My apologies."

Marcie's eyes went slitty again, then she turned on her heel and carted the bowl back into the house.

"How much did you give her?" I asked Vee.

"I didn't. I tossed in a condom."

I lifted my eyebrows. "Since when do you carry condoms?"

"I picked one up off the lawn on our way up the walk. Who knows, maybe Marcie'll use it. then I'll have done my part to keep her genetic matter out of the gene pool."

—Marcie, Vee, and Nora, Crescendo, page 218 (Becca Fitzpatrick)

**I love quotes, if you haven't read Hush Hush or Crescendo they are recommended. So, on to the chapter! Yay! I know, I've made you wait long enough, the least I can do is stop chatting at you. (In case you haven't noticed, I'm really bubbly when I'm happy) So here's the chapter! I hope you love it as much as I do!**

**Chapter Songs:**

***** **_**No Surprise-**_** Daughtry (A) I love this song. B) It fits the mood. If you haven't heard it, look it up this instance, I promise you'll adore it too! This is for the beginning scene)**

*******_** Whattaya Want From Me-**_** Adam Lambert (This fits the mood of the second scene. You'll see why, I swear)**

*******_** Whoa is Me**_**- Down With Webster (J'adore cette chanson! Yes, I am taking French again this year, yes I really do love this song. It makes me smile for absolutely no reason. I also picture it as Valentine/Jace/Sebastian-Jonathan's theme songs at different points throughout the books. Here it is serving its purpose for Valentine)**

*******_**Already Gone**_**- Kelly Clarkson (This song is gorgeously sad, I bet you can figure out what happens in this scene)**

*******_** R.I.P**_** - 3OH!3 (Amazing song, my personal favourite by this band. You'll see how it fits)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the above songs or quotes, actually I own nothing. Well, I do own English homework, a Vocals assignment AND a fuzzy pair of socks but you should all know what I own adn do not own by now. It's not like anyone actually reads these things. **

**Without further ado, le chapitre. (Did I mention I own French homework, too?)**

Previously on_Resurfacing_:

_I wiped my face on my sleeve and stood up. I took one last look at Stephen and was about to walk to the door when one of the boarded up windows fell in. A man walked in with a limp girl thrown over his shoulder. Clary, I realized. Her red hair was matted around her face and her eyes were bruise-like shadows on her pale face._

_"If you want her to live, you're going to have to come with me, Jonathan Herondale."_

12. Captured, Interrogated and Dumped

Jace PoV

"_What did you to her?_" I demanded, wiping my face dry from tears.

"Calm yourself down, child. She's fine. Do you really think I'd hurt my own daughter?" he said. The blond man, Valentine Morgenstern, shifted Clary in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered and she rolled over a little in his grip.

"Jonathan, Sebastian, Jonathan," she mumbled, eyes closing. _Jonathan?_Was she talking about me, or another Jonathan? I didn't even think she knew my full name.

"See? She's not dead. She spoke. She's talking about her brother, you know. Not you. She knows you as Jace. I'm sure you wish that she meant you. You love her, don't you?" Valentine taunted, a smirk playing across his face.

"Oh, thanks for clearing that matter up. I was worried that my first name was getting out there. I just don't think such a simple name sums up my complex personality," I said half-heartedly. I was tired, frustrated, my car was probably getting towed at this very minute because I parked it in front of somebody's driveway, and I had just watched my father, who I thought was dead, die. What a day.

Funny thing is that it started out great. I slept in, had a shower, ate a breakfast bar, and walked across the lawn to pick the girl I liked up for our date. We went for breakfast and got to know each other better, we went bowling. Then I had to ruin it by bringing her to lacrosse practice to introduce her to the six-year-olds. I phrased things stupidly and she got kidnapped.

Things went from good, to great, to worse. And right now? Well, this situation is an 20 on a scale of 1 to 10 on my worst situations to be in list.

"Are you coming? If not, I can guarantee that Clarissa won't last much longer, and if she doesn't wake up, well I'm sure you understand how this works," Valentine said, his white smile glowing in the darkness.

"Fine," I sighed dejectedly. "I'll come with you. Just tell me what you want." I took a step closer to him, lifting a hand to touch Clary's hair.

Valentine slapped it away. "No touching. Keep you filthy hands off. I want nothing but to have a man to man chat with the boy who is trying to date my daughter. Is that really so bad? Now come along, Jonathan Christopher Herondale. The limo is out front."

_Yes, that's bad, Especially when the man is the one who messed up the boy's life._I nodded and followed Valentine out the hole he burst in the wall. I turned to look back at my father, but someone had already positioned him on the couch with the TV on and an empty can of _Monster_energy drink in his hand.

When he said that there was a limo out front, Valentine hadn't been lying. There was a black stretch limo with tinted windows sitting in the driveway. Lucky for us that this neighbourhood was fairly deserted or we'd have all the neighbours in the front yard marvelling at the beautiful car. The driver, a stocky man with a thick black moustache—the man who kidnapped Clary from the parking lot—was standing outside the limo.

"Hello sir. Back to your hotel room?" the chauffer asked, sounding British and formal.

"Yes, Jameson. Take us to the room." Valentine nodded at the chauffer. Jameson opened the door for us and Valentine shoved roughly shoved Clary in. A wave of anger coursed through me. What kind of man would treat their daughter like that?

"And, as for you . . ." Valentine said, taking my head in his hands. He placed his two of his fingers on either side of my head and squeezed. I remembered Cam telling me about a 'sleeper' move or something that he learned in his taekwondo class, where you immobilize your opponent and knock them out using pressure points. I had a feeling that's what Valentine was doing to me. A felt a stab of pain as he pushed on my left temple and my vision began fading.

****#****

Everything was foggy and disjointed. Clary sat in front of me one minute, lying like she was dead. The next moment she was beside me, shaking me and telling me to wake up. Then all of a sudden, Valentine was shoving me back down and taping my hands together like makeshift hand cuffs.

Light stabbed my eyes and loud sounds poured in my ears as if someone had shoved cotton balls in my ears and had decided to take them out. I blinked, eyes adjusting to the light of the bright lamp. I could see Valentine sitting across from me with Clary on his left and a blond boy I'd never seen before on my right. Something about the boy seemed oddly familiar, like I'd seen him before. But that didn't make any sense.

"The experiment awakens," Valentine proclaimed. The boy beside him smirked and leaned behind Valentine to whisper something in Clary's ear. She glared at him in response and let out a hiss.

"Jonathan, don't be an asshole," she said, her voice full of hostility. _That must be her brother_, I realized.

"Jace, sit up. You're awake now, so I would think that your brain is fully functioning, unless you didn't have one in the first place." Valentine smirked. He brought me here to insult me to my face? What had I ever done to this man?

I sat up and glared at the three of them. Clary was just sitting there, not even bothering to ask if I needed help. I didn't figure her to be the type who went coward when daddy walked in the room. I pushed that thought aside and scolded myself. That man was _not_ one to be messed with. Clary probably just valued her own life.

She had changed out of her jeans and tank top and was now wearing a green dress with a little black bow around the waist. Valentine was wearing a suit and so was Jonathan. They must've either gone out for dinner while I was knocked out, or were planning on going once they were done interrogating me. Clary mouthed something that looked like 'sorry' at me and I relaxed my expression to be one of nonchalance, like I was captured by psycho's all the time and it didn't faze me anymore.

"Well Father, he seems to have sat up now. So we know he has something of a brain in his head. He's nothing like I pictured him when Stephen described him. I certainly don't like him the way Stephen promised," Jonathan scoffed. I almost got up and kicked him, but I resisted the urge.

"Hush, Jonathan. This interrogation thing isn't going to work well if you keep insulting him, I need him to be cooperative." He turned his steely charcoal gaze on me. "Now Jace, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer. If that goes well, I'll do a few tests on you and then you're free to go. If it doesn't go well, I'll keep you here longer. So the pain level of this is completely up to you. Understand?"

I nodded at him and bit my tongue to stop me from saying something that would piss him off. The last thing I needed was him to be pissed. I lifted my arms up to test if they were still taped together. Yep. Whenever I lifted my right arm, my left came up too. They were behind my back.

"I see you've noticed that your arms are tied. That's merely to keep you and I safe. I hear the needle can hurt a little and if you were to lash out at me while I was administering it to you, we would both be in trouble, but mostly you. Clarissa, go get the alcohol wipes," Valentine ordered. Clary nodded at her father like an obedient little puppy and walked into the next room.

"She's a pretty thing, isn't she? She looks just like her mother. Pity that she died, I have a feeling Jocelyn would've liked you. We met once, when you were just a baby. You bit me when I was looking at your teeth. It hurt like hell, I'll give you that. I'm a curious man, Jace. I like learning new things. And that's why you're here. I want to learn more about what I had your father do to you, and whether I should be apologizing to you or whether you should be thanking me. I have a doctor coming in about five minutes to help me with the tests, and I promise that I will give you full access to the test results. After, I'll take you out for dinner and you can go on your merry way."

I looked up at Valentine. He made everything sound so easy, painless. I had to remind myself that he was a lawyer and that this is what he went to school for ten years to learn how to do. Trickery. Deceit. Manipulation. "What about Clary?" I demanded, wanting to have her with me.

Valentine laughed. It was a deep, mocking sound. "Of _course_ Clarissa will be returned home safely. I disowned her, did I not? I just wanted to see my daughter and check up on how she's doing. Nothing evil, I assure you." A doorbell rang and Jonathan rushed up to get it. Valentine continued speaking to me. "That must be Dr. Trial. He's the best doctor money can hire in Los Angeles."

Jonathan walked back in with a tall, red-haired man. The man had a friendly, open sort of face, with twinkling blue eyes and a calm look on his face. _How can a man like that agree to helping with something like this?_ Clary followed them in, holding a box of antiseptic cleaning pads.

"Ah, Dr. Trial. Welcome to my hotel suite. I had my driver set up you equipment in the corner. This is Jace Herondale, the boy I told you about. Clarissa and Jonathan, you may leave. We need privacy." Valentine shooed them out while Dr. Trial scrutinized me.

"This is the boy?" Dr. Trial asked, his voice coloured with a faint British accent. He knelt down beside the bed I was placed on and snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves. Valentine nodded and sat down in the armchair in the corner. He pulled out a spiral bound notebook and a pen.

"Look at me son," Dr. Trial ordered, pulling out a little flashlight. He shone it in my eyes like the doctors do when they're checking if you have a concussion or not. "Did you know that your eyes are the strangest shade of brown I have ever seen? Were they always this colour?"

I nodded, thinking of the baby pictures I had seen. "Yes sir," I told him. Dr. Trial just seemed like a 'sir' to me.

Valentine scribbled something onto the pad of paper. Dr. Trial looked at me like I was a specimen that he was studying in a biology lab. "Needle, please, Mr. Morgenstern. I want to take a blood sample and run a few tests with blood."

Trial took one of the alcohol wipes and ripped the package open with his teeth. He wiped my forearm with the swab, like they do before you get a flu shot. The gesture was so normal that it actually relaxed me, and I slouched down a bit instead of holding my back rigid. Valentine wheeled over the trolley with the lab equipment on it.

Dr. Trial took a long, thin needle off of the trolley. It was almost the same size as the ones they used for spinal taps, but it was thinner—it was almost invisible when he held it up vertically—and a bit shorter. But not by much.

He cleaned it with another alcohol wipe. He must've seen me looking at the mega-needle because he gave me what I guessed was supposed to be a comforting look. "Don't worry, it's the newest medical technology. It's so thin that you won't even feel it go in. Well, you might a little. But it won't hurt as much as when your adoptive sister stuck a pin in your head," the man said. He gave me a little wink.

I felt my jaw drop. _How did he know that? No one knew. That was between me, Izzy, Alec, Maryse, Robert and the nurse at the hospital who retired last year_.

"You ready? I swear, I'll make this as painless as I can." Dr. Trial lined the needle up with my arm. His cool, gloved fingers probed across my skin, locating the vein he needed to puncture to conduct his tests. I closed my eyes and relaxed all my muscles as Dr. Trial touched the thin needle to my arm. The needle slid into my arm easily, with little discomfort.

It was when he started drawing blood that the discomfort began. My vision swam and my body began going numb. _I hope I don't make a habit of fainting. Twice in a day. Joy_.

Valentine PoV

Trial stuck the needle into the boys arm and began drawing blood. I watched as the boy's golden eyes fluttered shut. The blue-red blood Trial was extracting from him flowed through a tube into a blood bag. Half full, Three-quarters full, five-sixths full.

My hand shot out and caught Trial by the arm. "That's enough for our purpose, Philip. If you extract too much, the boy will die, and I don't want that of my experiment."

Trial nodded, his mouth a grim line. "Of course, sir. I got carried away. I shall run the tests now. You can leave, I promise I won't break anything. I'm sure your children are waiting for you so they can eat."

I nodded at Trial. "Conduct the blood work, leave me the analysis, and then get out. I'll have the bank transfer the money into your account." _Not._

I turned on my heel and walked out of the room, leaving Philip with the unconscious Herondale boy. Clarissa and Jonathan were in the next room over, Clarissa sleeping on the floor and Jonathan applying black dye to his white-blond hair.

"Son, did you knock your sister out?" I asked, startling him. He turned to look at me, hands still distributing dye through his hair.

"Yes, father." he replied, not sounding sorry in the least. _Just like I taught him_.

"How did you do it? Pressure point? Fist? Over-dose of Advil for her head-ache?" I asked.

Jonathan finished dying his hair and started blow-drying it lightly. "Pressure point. I didn't want to OD her, and using my fist would've left a mark, which would make her suspicious when she wakes up."

I gave him a look of approval. "Good choice. I have a little task for you, son. I need you to deliver Clarissa back to the Lewis' house. Leave a little note for her on her bedside table when you do. Something cryptic, but make it along the lines of: You kiss Jace, someone dies, if you touch Jace, someone will get hurt. You can't choose who, but I promise, I'll make it as painful as possible. Something like that. Just make it more poetic and smooth. You can sign it with your full name, or just leave it blank. I think she'll get the message."

Jonathan tilted his head to the side. "Why do you want to keep her away from Jace? It's not like they're even dating or anything."

I shook my head at Jonathan. "I want to keep her away from my experiment. He's different—maybe a good different, maybe a bad different. Either way I want her as far away from him as possible. The only way that's ever going to be possible is if I threaten the people around her. I'll need you to keep an eye on Jace, though. I want to keep a close eye on my special little experiment, see if the new batch of blood I'm going to inject him with will do anything unusual."

"I thought I was done with school. I don't want to repeat my senior year again. I could be in university right now! I was at school up until last week when you pulled me out so I could help you with this! There is no way in hell I'm going to repeat!" Jonathan burst out.

"Jonathan, you don't even have to go to class if you don't want to. I just need you enrolled there so you can keep an eye on Clarissa and Mr. Herondale."

"Fine." He put the blow-dryer down and hopped off the counter. "But I get to drive the Mercedes whenever I want." He picked Clarissa up stared at me, waiting for my answer.

"Deal, Jonathan. Now go drive the Mercedes to the Lewis' and drop your sister and the note off." I ordered. I didn't really need the Mercedes, I had the limo and a BMW being shipped over from Europe. I was planning on giving that car to him for his birthday anyway.

He left the room and I walked back to the room Trial was in. He was at the door of the apartment, doing up his coat. "Good day, Doctor. Thank you for your services!" I called. He nodded and waved a brief good-bye before leaving.

I walked over to where he had left the notes. I scanned the notes and then set to the task of mixing my new concoction. I used the needle to inject the mixture back into Jace, hearing him gasp from the pain, even though he was unconscious.

****#****

6 Hours later . . .

Clary PoV

I woke up in my bed. I'm not sure how I got there, but I woke up in Simon's house, in my bed. IS it weird that I didn't even remember going to bed, let alone eating dinner? And yet, here I was, in my favourite Victoria Secret Pink pyjama's. I sat up slowly, feeling a little light-headed. I had the strangest dream, where I was captured by my father, and Jace was captured too. Too strange.

I sat up and noticed the time on the clock. It was seven thirty. Something beside the clock caught my eye. It was a piece of paper, folded up and tucked under my laptop. I lifted my Mac to get at the little square of paper.

_Clarissa_, it read, _let's play a little game. It's called Keep Away. The rules are, I get to choose one person you have to stay away from indefinitely, and if you touch said person, I get to hurt someone you love. If you kiss the person, I kill someone. Sound easy? Good. The person I'm choosing to 'Keep Away' from you is Jonathan Herondale. Jace. You're playing my game, Clarissa, whether you like it or not. So try me, I'm fully prepared to keep my end of the deal. You touch Jace, Simon might end up in the hospital tomorrow. You kiss Jace, Isabelle Lightwood might be found dead in the bathroom. The game starts now._

I reread the note to make sure I understood. _Oh God_, I choked back a sob. Someone was out to get me, and they weren't afraid to bring innocents into the chase. Was there a way for me to just give up and face the consequences? Probably not. The anonymous writer seemed pretty into this 'game'.

'Keep Away'. Clever name. The rules ran through my head. Touch Jace, someone gets injured. Severely. Kiss Jace, someone dies. Painfully. _Great._

"I have to end it with Jace," I whispered to myself, feeling tears spring to my eyes. "I have to. No messing up. Just a simple 'Jace, I'm sorry, but it's over'. No hug, no break-up kiss. Nothing. Cold, hard break-up. Oh, God. I can't do this!"

Jace PoV

I'm not sure what's worse; waking up and not knowing where you are, or waking up, knowing where you are, but not knowing how you got there. I think they're equally disturbing.

I was slumped over the steering wheel of my car, parked by the track. A ticket sat on my window, stating that I had a hundred-and-some-odd dollar fine to pay off for parking in an illegal area. I sat up, massaging the kink in my neck. My arm felt bruised, and my head was pounding like someone was repeatedly hitting me over the head with a hammer. Not a fun feeling.

I wiped sleep out of my eyes and turned on the ignition. My car rumbled to life, the engine sounding like thunder. I covered my ears with my hands, wincing at the loudness of everything. I could hear the traffic rolling by like someone had taped it and put it on my iPod, then gave me headphones to put on and played the sound at the loudest.

I could feel every individual fibre of my worn denim jeans, the itch of where a tag was once sewn onto my t-shirt on my back. The leather steering wheel, which had once felt smooth and comfortable to the touch now felt rough. The car engine was like a thunder cloud beneath my feet, with every vibration reverberating through the car. All of senses were on hyper-alert, touch, smell, hearing, sight.

I gritted my teeth and gunned the engine, lurching forward. I drove as quickly as I could through the deserted New York streets. Not a single car joined me on the road, much to my pleasure and surprise. New York was _never_ quiet. Someone always had to be somewhere and something was _always_ happening. Whether it was a house-fire, or the police responding to a noise complaint, New York was a lot of things, but silent wasn't one of them. It was a loud, fat, obnoxious city, a lot like some of it's more stereotypical inhabitants.

I drove straight through the red light, expecting to hear a siren following me. Nothing. I passed streets at a rapid speed, the signs turning to green blurs. All the trees in the greenways blended together to become one smudge of green against a gray backdrop. I turned on to my street, almost missing the turn. I slowed the car to what felt like a crawl. I pulled slowly into the driveway and opened my door. My whole body was shaking from the feel of the ignition in the car.

I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds and birds soared through the sky. I turned my gaze to the Lightwood Mansion, which was completely dark. All the lights were off and there was a note stuck to the door. I hauled my things out of my car and set them down on the porch, ignoring the fact that my usually heavy lacrosse bag felt feather light. I peeled the Post-it Note off the door and tried to decipher the messy handwriting.

_Asshole_, the messy writer wrote,_we've gone out for the day to visit Dad's sick uncle in Buffalo. We'll be back on Tuesday. Don't set the house on fire, and Mom says to remind you not to break any of her antique vases or spill anything on her new Persian rug. She will kill you if you damage and/or break anything. Seriously. Love, Isabelle. P.S Mom was pissed when you didn't some home last night. She'll need an explanation when we get back._

I crumpled the Post-it into a ball and shoved it in my pocket. How was I supposed to explain to Maryse where I was last night if I didn't know myself? I twisted my key in the lock and push the door open. Everything was in perfect order, not a single piece of furniture was out of place. The uniform cleanliness of the place gave me a sense of solidity, like the whole world wasn't really falling apart if Maryse could still spend all her time cleaning and organizing things.

I brought my bags up to my room and lay down on my bed, trying to ignore the fact that I could feel all the little fibres of the sheets. I could hear the TV downstairs playing the eight o'clock news on Channel 7. Someone murdered someone and some fancy French designer opened a boutique Downtown. Normal news for New York. Murder and shopping, a New Yorker's favourite combo.

A sound like a bee buzzing in my ear broke me from my reverie. My first instinct was to swat at the air like an idiot and cover my ears at the sound, but the rational part of my brain told me to take my damn phone out of my pocket. Sure enough, I had a text message. I tapped the screen with my finger and opened the message. My heart skipped a beat when I saw who it was from. Clary. Thank God she was safe. Or at least, I assumed she was safe if she was able to use her phone and text me.

_Jace we need 2 talk can i come ovr to ur house or do u want 2 come ovr here?_ she wrote.

I tapped back a quick message: _U come here iz alec and fam r gone til tues got house to myself._

_I'll be ovr in 5 min or so._

I jumped off my bed and dashed into the bathroom. I made my hair lie flat and did the quickest shaving job in the world. I inspected my face in the mirror and decided that although I felt completely different, I still looked relatively the same. I had faint circles underneath my eyes, but I could blame that on lack of sleep.

I peeled my t-shirt off and threw it into a corner in the bathroom. I'd take care of that later. A tingling spread across my torso as the air ran across the bare skin and I glanced in the mirror. The arm that had felt bruised earlier looked fine, all except for a mark that wasn't there before. It was tear drop shaped and slightly raised. I had no idea how I got it, and even stranger was the absolute certainty that it hadn't been there yesterday.

The doorbell rang and I jumped at the volume of the sound. _Dammit_, I thought, hating myself for being jumpy at such a little, ordinary sound. I pulled a clean t-shirt out of my drawer and pulled it on as I ran down the stairs and opened the door for Clary.

Clary was dressed in a gray, long-sleeved sweater and had on a pair of ripped skinny jeans. Her hair was curled in perfect ringlets that framed her gorgeous face. Her eyes were sad, though. Their usually fire-y colour was liquid and water-y, as if she'd been crying. That couldn't be right, because although her eyes looked water-y, I could tell that she was wearing mascara and it was perfectly in place, not a single fleck on her skin. She looked a lot more put-together than I felt.

"Hi Jace," Clary said, her voice like a scream to my ears. I cringed involuntarily at the sound.

"Hi Clary. Come on in. We have the house to ourselves, because the Lightwood's are out visiting," I said, moving aside so she could walk in. She did and I led her to the den. All the windows were drawn and the room felt like a little cave. I flicked on a few lamps, lighting up the corners of the room.

Clary sat down on the couch, sitting right next to the arm. I tentatively sat next to her, schooling my features into a smile. I ignored the feel of the couch and focused my attention on the girl beside me.

"What's up? Are you okay? You sort of disappeared yesterday. I chased the car down but I lost you at the intersection," my voice sounded hollow and tired in my ears.

Clary looked over at me with a look of surprise on her face. "What are you talking about Jace? Simon's uncle picked me up. Simon was in the backseat. His car was out of gas and his uncle offered to pick me up and drive us back to the house. I'm sorry if you thought I was in trouble, but I was fine. I wanted to text you but my phone died and Simon didn't have his phone on him." Clary's tone was cold. I was taken aback by the iciness of her voice.

_What did I do wrong?_ "Did I do something wrong?" I asked, my tone equally cold. The basic reflex came from having siblings. They snap, you snap back. Simple as that. Human nature. I still couldn't help feeling guilty for the tone once the words were out of my mouth.

Clary's face fell for a brief second, but she pulled her cold expression back into place. It looked like winter was coming early. "No, no, it's not you Jace. That was all my fault. It was all . . . me," Clary finished.

_It's not you, it's me, I swear_. Clichéd break-up mantra. I swallowed up a snide remark and said nothing for a moment. I listened to the silence and tried to get my thoughts in order. "Clary, I'm sorry—for snapping at you. I'm just tired. I—" the look on Clary's face made me drop my sentence.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and I felt an overwhelming urge to hug her and tell her everything would be okay. I lay my palm on her cheek, feeling the silky softness of her skin with my high-alert senses. Clary turned to look at me and pulled back, as if my touch repulsed her.

I pulled my hand back as well, inspecting my fingers to make sure they were still the same as always. Long, thin, pianists fingers connected to a smooth palm. No weird marks, ink stains. Just my hand. She hadn't had a problem with it touching her yesterday. I wondered if she could tell that all my senses were on high alert and it made her uncomfortable.

"Don't touch me Jace," she spat out, biting her lip. Her eyes bore into mine with such fierceness that a passer-by would've thought she was planning on killing me. Or kissing me. But at this point, she was more likely to kill than kiss.

"We need to break up. You're not right for me. All this sneaking around behind Cam's back to be with you isn't for me. I don't feel anything for you anymore. I hate you. I don't want you to touch me, or kiss me, or text me, or talk to me. I don't even want to see your face anymore, but I'll have to endure through it, seeing as it's a little late to change my courses." Her words felt like someone was stabbing me with icicles.

"You—What?" I asked, not sure if I'd heard properly.

"I'll go through this again for you. Get. Out. Of. My. Life. I never want to talk to you again. It's not you, it's me. But I've decided that what's best for me is to break up with you. I don't love you Jace, and I don't think I can learn to love someone who's so shallow and can't reciprocate my feelings. I know that I'm only another notch on your belt, a trophy in your closet. No one told me to break up with you, it's just what I feel in my heart that is right for me."

I closed my eyes and willed myself not to show any sadness at her words. "Fine Clary. I understand. I never really loved you either. I just thought you'd be a fun hook-up. Because, you know, I'm that much of a jerk," I said sarcastically.

Her mouth fell into a frown. "That's another thing: even though you're a year older than me, you're immature. You don't take anything seriously. Nothing fazes you. You're Mr. Calm, Cool and Collected 24/7. I want a boyfriend who actually shows emotion, instead of hiding behind a piece of glass," she snapped.

I felt my anger bubbling up. "You want emotion? I feel emotion Clary. I feel everything, I just don't go and cry to everyone I come across. I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I'm not a needy little whiner who complains to everyone in sight about their problems."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're so stubborn. Face it, you feel nothing. Not love, not sorrow, not heart-break. This break-up is _nothing_ to you. You couldn't care less about what I do."

"I care, Clary. I care a lot. Not for you anymore, because, to use your word, you don't _reciprocate_ that feeling. Just—get out. If you want to break this off because it's what's right for you, then we'll break it off." The next few words got stuck in my throat as I shoved them out. I put on my most uncaring and indifferent face on. "I don't love you. I never have and probably never will. So just leave—_please_. Leave and don't come back." _There_. I inhaled deeply through my nose and shook my head at her.

Clary's jaw dropped, as if she couldn't believe that I just said that to her. _I_ couldn't believe I said it, either. But the words were out, the damage was done. if she was going to treat me like a piece of disposable crap, maybe I was right to deliver the last blow. Her attitude bordered on hypocritical, what with her accusing me of using her to say that I had her. Isn't that what she used me for? A free breakfast, a few free games of bowling.

"Fine, I was going to leave anyway. I'm done with this conversation. Stay away from me and we're cool, okay? Bye, Jace." Clary turned on her heel and walked out the door, leaving me standing in the den. A chill swept over my whole body, and I felt as though I was outside in a blizzard in shorts and a t-shirt.

I heard the front door slam shut and I knew Clary and I were over. And until graduation, I had to make her think I didn't give a damn.

Clary PoV

I slammed his door as hard as I could, my heart pounding in my chest. I did it. I broke up with him. I didn't falter, didn't back out at the last minute. I must've been a better actress than I thought if he would actually believe I didn't love him. I knew that I hurt him badly and that I'd just squashed all hopes of ever getting back together with him. I could survive. I'd tell Cam I wanted to end everything with him and he and Jace could go back to being best friends and forget all about me. It was for the best.

I just had to keep telling myself that. _It's for the best. It's for the best. It's for the best. It'sforthebestit'sforthebest._ I got to my room and crashed on the bed, my body shaking with sobs. _No_, I told myself fiercely. _You are a strong, independent women who can care for herself and is doing this for the greater good—the safety of everyone she loves._

I knock on my door made me sit up and wipe my tears away. "Clary? It's Simon. Can I come in?" Simon called from the other side of the door, sounding anxious.

I wiped my face on my sleeve and sniffled. "Yeah, Si, come on in," I replied, hugging a pillow to my chest.

The doorknob spun and the door opened, revealing a nervous Simon. "Are you _crying_ Clary?" he asked incredulously.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, Simon, I have the ability to cry. I try not to make a habit of it, but I am physically capable of crying. Come in."

He walked in carefully, as if he was afraid that if he stepped in the wrong spot on the floor that I would freak out at him and burst into tears. He sat on the bed next to me and I lay my head on his chest, letting him rock me back and forth.

"What's wrong, Clary? What happened? You went over to the Lightwood's and now you're crying. Did he do something to you?" Simon asked, his body going rigid.

"No, no, Si, he didn't do anything. I broke up with him. I'm just not sure if it was the right thing to do now," I sobbed. He stroked my back in soothing circles.

"If I had a say in what you did with your love life, you'd have dumped him first thing. But what I think doesn't matter when it comes to who you love. If you feel in your heart that breaking up was the best thing for you, then that's what you should do."

I looked up at him with my eyes wide. "Simon, I think that was the best advice you've ever given me. Usually you compare real life to your latest game of Dungeons and Dragons and the advice ends up making no sense. But that was really heartfelt. If you were like that more often, girls would be all over you," I told him honestly.

Simon blushed from my comment and I sat back up, feeling more confident in my decision. "Why don't we go out for lunch?" I proposed. "I'll pay."

Simon nodded at me. "Sounds good Fairchild. Lead the way."

Jace PoV

I slammed my glass back down on the table. "I'll take another one of those," I called to the bartender. The bartender was a stocky man in a plaid checked flannel shirt with a balding head. I was usually not the type to drown my sorrows in a glass of beer, but desperate situations stem from desperate actions. Breaking up with Clary was the worst thing I had ever done.

"Comin' right up," the bartender said, then pointed one of the barista's in my direction. She flipped her dyed-red hair over her shoulder and walked over towards me.

"Refill, or are you in the mood for trying something new?" she asked, leaning over the table to give me a glimpse of what her scrap of a shirt wasn't covering.

"Just a refill," I said coldly, not in the mood for flirting, especially not with the 40-year-old barista. Something about dyed hair and wrinkles turned me off. If she was twenty years younger with natural hair, I might've given her more of a chance. But most likely not. Actually, definitely not.

"'Kay, sweet, no need to get your panties in a bunch," she said, hands going up in a _don't shoot me_ motion. She refilled my glass and I took a huge gulp, the alcohol stinging my throat.

"Who died, hon?" she asked, leaning over yet again.

"Marcus Reeves, don't you watch the news?" I snapped, naming off the man who was murdered.

She rolled her eyes at me. "That was rhetorical, sweetie pie. Anyways, aren't you a little young to be here? Didn't they ID you at the door?"

I took another gulp. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that money can get you anywhere?" I retorted. I _hated_ being questioned. Was it so hard for her to just drop her pathetic crush on me and get back to work?

"Someone pissed you off. Did your girlfriend dump you? Did she cheat on you? Do you _have_ a girlfriend?" Again, with the questions.

"You're pissing me off. Get the hell away from me," I snapped, finishing me drink. "I'm done here. I need the bill. Don't expect a tip, though," I warned her, reaching into my pocket to grab my wallet.

She backed off and rung up my bill on the cash register. "Your total is thirty dollars," she said.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "I only had two drinks. What's the extra charge for?" I demanded.

"For pissing me off," was her answer. She smiled a smug little smirk adn plucked the two twenties out of my hand. "Thanks for the tip, sweet cheeks. That's going towards my face-lift." She walked away, leaving me stunned. If i was in a better mood, I'd have applauded her, but right now she just made me more upset.

I walked out of the bar, not feeling light-headed at all. I had walked all the way to the bar, needing the release of physical energy. Now I was just plain tired and wanted nothing more than to curl up with a cup of coffee and think of what to say to Kaelie. I needed to make Clary think I was completely in love with Kaelie and I had no idea how to talk to her. I spent most of my time ignoring her while she pouted over me and tried to kiss every uncovered piece of skin.

I kicked a stone on the sidewalk, watching it bounce onto the road, sure to get run over my someone's car. This area of New York was always packed with cars, although at this time of night, the traffic was definitely slower. It was around one in the morning and the streets were deserted. I pushed my cell phone and wallet deeper into the pockets of my jeans. The only people on the street were the New York homeless and they were eyeing my phone and wallet like they were giant chocolate cakes set on a platter.

I quickened my pace, feeling the cold seep through my leather jacket. I turned the corner and broke into a jog, feeling the need to run. I crossed the street and jumped over the fire hydrant for fun. Anything to erase the thoughts of _her_from my head. To be honest, the whole ordeal seemed totally unrealistic and I felt as though any minute now I'd wake up and realize it was all a dream. But I'd gone through the 'I'm not dreaming, am I?' works, the whole skin pinching, ice-water splashing techniques. There was no waking up from this nightmare.

As I ran, I remembered how when I was little and had first come to the Lightwood's I used to lie awake at night, afraid to go to sleep because in my dreams I was back at the detention facility. If I dreamed, I was afraid I wouldn't wake up. Maybe this was one of those dreams, the kind you can't wake up from.

I turned on to the Lightwood's street, refusing to look at the neighbours house. I wasn't going to think about her. I was going to move on, to forget everything we ever shared. To forget how all in two days I was captured, interrogated, and dumped. In that order. I was sure that being captured wasn't a dream and that I actually watched my father die in front of my eyes. But I wasn't going to remember that. I was going to pretend Clary never existed. I could forget, I would forget. Starting now, I was going to ignore her. Indefinitely.

***Cringes and hides behind French binder* Don't hurt me, I was forced to write it! The French textbook made me. Just joking, but I know, I suck right now, but it'll get better, cross my heart and hope to die. To make up for my suck-ish-ness, I'll post an excerpt of the next chapter below. **

**Now, reviews. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! The faster you review, the faster Jace and Clary will make up and make out. So, since I'm posting a teeny excerpt below, I will send the first 10 reviewers an even longer excerpt from the next chapter, I PROMISE, I REALLY DO.**

**So, for an excerpt, tell me what you think of my story and answer at least one of the following questions. (If you want to PM me the answer to the questions that's completely fine with me, I check my emails daily usually) So . . . 1)Who is your favourite character? 2) What do you think is going to happen next? 3) Do you think Clary and Jace will get back together right away? AND 4) What is your all-time favourite book?**

**And now, may I present your special excerpt . . . **

13. Forget You

_I see you driving 'round town_

_With the girl I love and I'm like,_

_Forget you. _

_I guess the change in my pocket _

_Wasn't enough I'm like,_

_Forget you,_

_And forget her too._

—_Forget You, Cee Lo Green_

3 Months Later . . .

Jace PoV

"No freaking way! You're the best boyfriend ever!" my girlfriend squealed, hugging the brochure I gave her. "I love you! You're taking me to the Lightwood's beach house in California! This is for real's? You're not joking? Eee!" she squealed again. "I love you, Jace Lightwood!"

I pulled her in for a hug, running my hand through her sunny-blonde hair. She pressed her cheek to my shoulder. "Hey, Val, please, don't cry," I said, hoping she wasn't going to start weeping like my ex would've.

I met Val one of my lacrosse games. She was one of the cheerleaders for my school and after the game we started talking and I realized that she was in two of my three classes and I was just so closed off that I didn't even notice her. My ex, Kaelie, was the one who introduced us in the first place, but I'm actually one-hundred-percent sure that she now hates both of us.

I was very humane in my break-up with Kaelie, though. I told her right to her face over a dinner at my house. I ordered Chinese for us and then during dessert I told her that I just wanted to be friends. She blames Val for it and sends me the stink-eye whenever I see her, but it was honestly for the best.

It was three days before senior prom and a little less than a month before graduation, and I had just broken the news to Val that after prom, I had convinced the Lightwood's to lend us their beach house in Southern California. They were paying for the whole thing: flights, side trips, food accommodations.

Needless to say, Val was thrilled and I was equally happy.

"I'm not going to cry, Jace. I just . . . Thank you, thank you, thank you! Did I mention that I love you?" she smiled up at me, her blue eyes sparkling in the sun.

"Umm, yeah, a few times, but I like how it sounds so you can keep saying it," I teased her, playing with a strand of her hair.

The bell for lunch to end rang and Val hopped off the gazebo steps. "Come on, Mr. Tress will throw a fit if we're late for the Trig test. Last big mark-booster before culminating," Val reminded me.

"You say that like you think I'm failing or something. I'll have you know that Tress is giving me a 93 in the course," I stated, making her giggle.

"Only because you bought her a box of her _favourite_ Belgian chocolates," Val teased.

I put on an enraged look and hooked my arm around her shoulders. We started walking towards the building. "That wasn't meant as a bribe. I was just trying to be nice."

She snorted. "You? Being _nice_? Is that even possible?"

I bumped her hip playfully. "And I'm the best boyfriend ever because?"

She shook her head as we walked up the steps and headed into the building. "I was being sarcastic, you idiot. I love you anyway, though."

"So idiot is a term of endearment now? Does that mean I should call you . . ."

"Shut up, Jace. I was _joking_. God, take a chill pill."

"That would be called a depressant, darling, and if the cheerleading coach found out you were telling me to take drugs, she would probably kick you off the team." I teased her as we reached her locker. I had stashed my books in their during my spare so we could get to class faster.

She slammed the locker shut and turned to face me. "I _hate_ you, Jace!" she cried, playfully shoving me. "No, no, wait I take that back! I love you, you're amazing, _please_ don't cancel the Cali trip!"

**I know you all love me . . . . So REVIEW!**

**xoxoxo,**

**Tally Cullen95**


	13. Forget You

**Hey! I'd like to start off by wishing everyone Merry Christmas! Consider this a present from me to you. It's wrapped in red sparkly wrapping paper with a shiny emerald green bow on top if you're wondering. **

**Thank you all so so so much for all of your fabulous reviews! I think you are all so amazing, and this story wouldn't be as great as it is today without all of your support! We're at what, like, 153 reviews? That's amazing! So I have a lot to be thankful for this Christmas, especially you guys. **

**THIS IS OFFICIALLY BETA'D! SO IF YOU WANT THE FULL EXPERIENCE OFF THE CHAPTER I'D REREAD IT. AS ALWAYS A HUGE THANKS TO MY FABULOUS BETA ROZAHATH WHO PUTS UP WITH ALL OF MY MISTAKES AND ANNOYING SPONTANEOUS 'I NEED TO UPDATE ASAP!' PM'S. SO GIVE HER A HUGE THANK YOU!**

**So, I was told that Jace seemed really OOC (out of character) in the last chapter, and I agree. My writing is really influenced by my emotions, and sometimes you can see those through the characters, which makes them seem OOC because they are reflecting how I felt. Yeah, my bad. Anyway, everyone's pretty in-character in this chapter. Oh and the stuff in italics that looks like gibberish is Dutch, and translations are posted at the bottom.**

**Chapter Songs:**

*******_** Angel **_**- Akon (Jace PoV, up until he starts playing the piano)**

***** **_**100 Years**_**- Five For Fighting (Jace PoV- while playing the piano, and through music class scene)**

***** **_**Take A Bow**_**- Rihanna (Clary PoV- music class)**

*******_**Forget You**_**- Cee Lo Green (Clary PoV- when she's at work)**

*******_**Back to December**_**- Taylor Swift (Jace PoV- in the hospital)**

**Disclaimer: You know what I own and don't own. (including the songs, they below to their respective artists)**

**Enjoy! And have a very merry Christmas!**

13. Forget You

_I see you driving 'round town_

_With the girl I love and I'm like,_

_Forget you. _

_I guess the change in my pocket _

_Wasn't enough I'm like,_

_Forget you,_

_And forget her too._

—_Forget You, Cee Lo Green_

3 Months Later . . .

Jace PoV

"No freaking way! You're the best boyfriend ever!" my girlfriend squealed, hugging the brochure I gave her. "I love you! You're taking me to the Lightwood's beach house in California! This is for real's? You're not joking? Eee!" she squealed again. "I love you, Jace Lightwood!"

I pulled her in for a hug, running my hand through her sunny-blonde hair. She pressed her cheek to my shoulder. "Hey, Val, please, don't cry," I said, hoping she wasn't going to start weeping like my ex would've.

I met Val one of my lacrosse games. She was one of the cheerleaders for my school and after the game we started talking and I realized that she was in two of my three classes and I was just so closed off that I didn't even notice her. My ex, Kaelie, was the one who introduced us in the first place, but I'm actually one-hundred-percent sure that she now hates both of us.

I was very humane in my break-up with Kaelie, though. I told her right to her face over a dinner at my house. I ordered Chinese for us and then during dessert I told her that I just wanted to be friends. She blames Val for it and sends me the stink-eye whenever I see her, but it was honestly for the best.

It was three days before prom and a little less than a month before graduation, and I had just broken the news to Val that after prom, I had convinced the Lightwood's to lend us their beach house in Southern California. They were paying for the whole thing: flights, side trips, food accommodations.

Needless to say, Val was thrilled and I was equally happy.

"I'm not going to cry, Jace. I just . . . Thank you, thank you, thank you! Did I mention that I love you?" she smiled up at me, her blue eyes sparkling in the sun.

"Umm, yeah, a few times, but I like how it sounds so you can keep saying it," I teased her, playing with a strand of her hair.

The bell for lunch to end rang and Val hopped off the gazebo steps. "Come on, Mr. Tress will throw a fit if we're late for the Trig test. Last big mark-booster before culminating," Val reminded me.

"You say that like you think I'm failing or something. I'll have you know that Tress is giving me a 93 in the course," I stated, making her giggle.

"Only because you bought her a box of her _favourite_ Belgian chocolates," Val teased.

I put on an enraged look and hooked my arm around her shoulders. We started walking towards the building. "That wasn't meant as a bribe. I was just trying to be nice."

She snorted. "You? Being _nice_? Is that even possible?"

I bumped her hip playfully. "And I'm the best boyfriend ever because?"

She shook her head as we walked up the steps and headed into the building. "I was being sarcastic, you idiot. I love you anyway, though."

"So idiot is a term of endearment now? Does that mean I should call you . . ."

"Shut up, Jace. I was _joking_. God, take a chill pill."

"That would be called a depressant, darling, and if the cheerleading coach found out you were telling me to take drugs, she would probably kick you off the team." I teased her as we reached her locker. I had stashed my books in their during my spare so we could get to class faster.

She slammed the locker shut and turned to face me. "I _hate_ you, Jace!" she cried, playfully shoving me. "No, no, wait I take that back! I love you, you're amazing, _please_ don't cancel the Cali trip!"

I laughed at her and towed her down the hallway to our math class. The second bell just rang as we stepped inside. Ms. Tress gave us a disapproving look and we made our way to our seats at the back. "That was a close call," Val whispered. "If we were any later, she would've had our heads."

Ms. Tress told us to shut up and handed us our tests. Val scooted her desk away from mine and exaggerated the motion of covering her paper with her arm to shield it from my eyes. I ignored her and focused my attention on my test. _Calculate the values of ?, ?, and ? for the following diagram. Show all steps._

Forty minutes later, I had finished the test and was staring at the clock waiting for the class to end. The period was 70 minutes long and I had ten left to kill. Val's head was still hunched over her paper and I could hear her pencil scratching across the page.

The extremely heightened sense of touch I had experienced at first had died down a little. It wasn't back to normal, but I didn't feel as though everything was as rough as sandpaper. My other senses seemed to have become more sensitive in the same way, but the shock of the first day had gone down by a lot. The whole thing was crazy, and I had no idea how it even came to be. All I know is that my body heals itself almost instantaneously, and my eyesight and hearing are much better than before, and I had always had 20-20 vision.

I still saw _her_ every day, but I made of a point of trying to unobvious in my avoidance of her. She dumped Cam a few months ago and had completely stopped hanging out with all of 'us'. She sat with Isabelle and her friends during lunch and completely avoided me.

Sebastian Verlac enrolled in the school and while I didn't have any classes with him, I still saw him all the time. He didn't seem to have a group, but I'm sure that if he tried, his 'old' one would let him back in, no problem. Something about the kid just seemed off to me. He actually _apologized_ for bursting into my house.

That wasn't the biggest surprise. The biggest surprise was that Sebastian seemed to want to be around me the most, even after I kicked his ass. He used to follow me around like his life depended on it, but a couple of weeks ago he decided to lighten-up on his stalking ways.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by my teacher's voice. "If you're done your test, you may bring it up to the front and head to your next class."

I scanned my paper to make sure I had given complete solutions for all of the questions and my name on the front page, then grabbed my pencil case and binder and stood up. Val seemed to have the same idea, and she followed me to the front of the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Lightwood, Miss Minte. Have a good day," Ms. Tress said as she collected our tests. Val grabbed my hand and we walked down the hall to her locker.

"So, how do you think you did?' she asked.

"Good, I think. There was one question I had to go back to because I wasn't sure how to solve it, but other than that I think I did well." We rounded a corner and waved to a few people who were on their spare.

"Oh, was it number 7? Because I had to go back and double—and triple— check that one because the way she phrased the question was a little weird. But overall I think I aced it. Good thing too, if I want that scholarship to the University of California. The guy I spoke to over the phone said that I was basically their first choice, but that he needed me to bump up my average a few marks to secure my spot. And you have a music scholarship to the school, so . . ."

I got the scholarship to the U of C after I dumped Kaelie. Her father revoked my lacrosse scholarship, so I applied to California. Lucky for me, they had apparently had their eyes on me for a while, so even though I was applying late, they sent a representative over to listen to me play and look at my technique.

We stopped at her locker and I shoved my Trig books on the top shelf while she grabbed her Dance clothes and iPad.

"I'm so nervous! I have my culminating performance for dance today, and I'm completely blanking on the steps!" Val said nervously as I locked the locker for her. We headed down the hall to where my locker was.

"You'll do fine. Trust me, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Just breathe and focus. I'll even buy you a Coke if you need the caffeine rush," I told her, rubbing circles on her shoulder as we walked.

"Now who's pushing who to do drugs?" she joked, her laugh weak.

"Ha ha, you live in New York City, and if you haven't noticed, caffeine is _normal_ here. I swear, some days half the teachers at this school _live_ off caffeine. I'm just offering you a little energy boost. If you're worried about that, I can get you a Vitamin Water. You just look like you're about to pass out."

"That's because I _am_ about to pass out, you jerk. How come you're not totally stressed, huh? Are you living off caffeine? Don't you have that big music test today that decides half of your grade?" Val prodded.

"You know I haven't had anything to drink except for water and orange juice today. You were _at my house this morning_. Anyway, I've learned that if you act confident, you feel confident and your performance is better, so I'm just being my normal self."

Val leaned against the wall while I opened my locker. "Lucky ass. You've played the piano your whole life."

"Well, you've danced your whole life, Miss Cheerleader," I retorted. I dug out my binder of sheet music and handed it to her.

"Here, I haven't decided what I'm playing yet, so you can choose. I need one piano song."

I closed my locker and held her bags for her as we made our way to the atrium. Class didn't start for another twenty minutes.

We sat down on one of the U-shaped benches and Val flipped through my binder. "You should play Defying Gravity from Wicked for your piano one." She pushed my binder back onto my lap.

"Sounds good. Here, I want to play you something," I told her, helping her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, not struggled as I dragged her towards the theatre.

"Here," I said, opening the theatre doors. I had full access to the piano in the theatre and was determined to take advantage of it.

I walked her down to where the piano was and sat down on the bench, patting the spot beside me. "Sit, I want to play you something. I learned it just for you," I said, and started playing.

After I few chords, I started singing to the music. I had been feeling inspired a week ago and decided to learn something special for her.

_I'm 15 for a moment_

_Caught in between 10 and 20_

_And I'm just dreaming_

_Counting the ways to where you are_

As I sing, memories cloud my sight. Some are of me and Val, like the weekend I took her camping and our boat ran out of gas in the middle of the lake and I had to swim the boat in because we also forgot to grab paddles.

_I'm 22 for a moment_

_And she feels better than ever_

_And we're on fire_

_Making our way back from Mars_

The time that we went to Disney Land for one of her cheerleading competitions fills my mind next. I had insisted on coming to watch and giving her and a few of her friends a ride and the car broke down in the middle of nowhere. We had had to rent a motel suite and wait for a tow truck to pick up the car. Val's friends were pretty pissed that they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, but _I_ thought it was fun.

_15 there's still time for you_

_Time to buy and time to lose_

_15, there's never a wish better than this_

_When you only got 100 years to live_

_I'm 33 for a moment_

_I'm still the man, but you see I'm a they_

_A kid on the way, babe_

_A family on my mind_

I remembered the day that we spent in Downtown New York, drinking milkshakes and laughing at tourists who were trying to get a taxi. We played the game where you have to make up the person's life story. There was one guy who was wearing a camouflage suit . "He's in the army," Val said, her expression serious. "He's going to propose to his girlfriend because he's sorry that he might've accidentally knocked up some blonde chick in Germany and wants to make sure she doesn't' find out or get suspicious."

_I'm 45 for a moment_

_The sea is high_

_And I'm heading into a crisis_

_Chasing the years of my life_

_15 there's still time for you_

_Time to buy, time to lose yourself_

_Within a morning star_

_15 I'm alright with you_

_15, there's never a wish, better than this_

_When you've only got 100 years to live_

Suddenly the scene changes and I'm no longer making up people's life stories with Val. I'm sitting in English class, watching my best friend hit on a red-headed girl. She's new here and radiates confidence. She holds herself with such complete self-assurance that it's impossible to tell that her whole future just got ripped out from beneath her . . .

_Half the time goes by_

_Suddenly you're wise_

_Another blink of an eye_

_67 is gone_

_The sun is getting high_

_We're moving on . . ._

The red-haired girl is breaking up with me now, her expression cold. Her green eyes blaze with hatred and my mind is reeling as I try to get a grip on what's happening. I can't fast-forward through the scene, that would mean that I would have to stop playing . . .

_I'm 99 for a moment_

_I'm Dying for just another_

_And I'm just dreaming_

_Counting the ways to where you are_

_15 there's still time for you_

_22 I feel her too_

_33 you're on your way_

_Every day's a new day . . ._

_15 there's still time for you_

_Time to buy and time to lose_

_Hey, 15, there's never a wish better than this_

_When you only got 100 years to live_

I stopped playing and opened my eyes, smiling at Val.

"Jace, that was gorgeous. You learned it just for me?" she asked.

I nodded, ignoring the little voice in my head that said the opposite. I was over _her_. Completely and totally over _her_.

"Wow. I honestly don't know what to say. That was better than all the coffee in the world, Jace." Val stood up and hugged me.

"Thanks. I should probably go to class now. Good luck with your dance," I told her, picking up my binder and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. The motion felt stiff and unnatural, which was completely unlike the way it usually felt.

_It's _her, I thought. She's _ruining everything, as usual. Damn feelings. Damn break-up. Damn heart. Damn _her. I stumbled out of the theatre and made my way to the stairwell. I lowered myself onto the steps, figuring I had a minute or two of safety before a herd of people were due to coming running down.

I put my head in my hands and gently rubbed my temples. _What had I gotten myself into?_ I asked myself, feeling like the biggest idiot ever.

_You were lonely because _she_left you, and Val was sorta pretty and right there. It's what you do, you hide your emotions and jump into a new relationship. Pathetic, huh? Makes you look like a hypocrite, the number of girls you've dumped because they're too _clingy_and are attempting to use you for one reason or another. Makes you sound like an asshole, doesn't it?_ the little voice at the back of my head said. I ignored it, like I had been for the past three months.

I slowly stood up and made my way up the stairs to the third floor, making it to the top of the stairs before the herd of people came charging through. I pushed through and walked over to music room. Usually I was the first one in there, but lately _someone_ kept beating me there.

She sat there, looking as gorgeous as ever, talking to Marika, the exchange student from the Netherlands. Marika smiled over in my direction, flicking her long white-blonde braid over her shoulder. "Jace, 'ow are you?" Marika greeted me, her accent making the 'h' in 'how' silent.

I gave her a smile in response. "I'm good. I just finished writing a trigonometry. Are you ready for the big playing test?" I asked her, taking the seat beside her.

"_Ja_. I . . . uh . . . practiced all last night at Anna's. I don't think 'er dog likes me very much, I kept playing clarinet and 'e paced the 'ole time," Marika giggled. I gave her another smile and pulled out my sheet music. I laid them out on the desk for her to see.

"_Ik hou van_ Defying Gravity. In the Nederland's, I went to see wicked it was _ect goed_." she said. Talking to Marika, I realized how lucky I was to know how to speak foreign languages. My father had insisted that I learn the basic European languages.

"Yeah, my adoptive parents took my siblings and I when it was here in New York. I really like the way Defying Gravity sounds on the piano. _Wat liedjes heb je gekozen_?" I asked her.

Marika smiled, pleased by the fact that I was speaking her native language. She responded fully in English, without any pauses, which was a first for her. "I'm playing 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. It was my lucky competition song in the Netherlands."

The rest of our class slowly entered the room and I said goodbye to Marika and went over to the piano. I sat down just as the bell rang. Ms. Viola entered the room and greeted everyone.

"Good afternoon! Are you all ready for your big music playing test?" When everyone groaned, Ms. Viola sat up straighter. "What? _Of_ course you're all ready! You have me as a teacher! I've been prepping you guys all semester. Anyway, I've already computer generated an order, so according to my list, the first victim . . . I mean, performer, is . . . Mr. Lightwood!" That wasn't much of a surprise. Ms. Viola always purposely made me go first. I was expecting it.

I stood up and the class turned around in their chairs to watch me. Ms. Viola nodded and pressed the record button on her video camera. "Hi, I'm Jace Lightwood and I'm going to be playing Defying Gravity from Wicked," I informed the video camera. I sat down and opened my sheet music.

Clary PoV

_Show-off_. _Stupid. Idiot. Asshole. Jerk. Sexy beyond—Shut _up_. _I shook my head to clear my thoughts of He-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless. He sat behind the piano, his hands dancing across the keyboard. Most girls would easily admit that playing the piano was one of _his_ sexiest traits. When he broke up with his last girlfriend, Kaelie, I remembered overhearing a few Grade 11 girls talking about him.

_"He's so freakin' sexy! There's something really hot about a guy who plays the piano that well," a dyed-blonde girl said. I shook my head at her, wanting to go over and tell her he wasn't worth it._

_"Soooo sexy. Imagine how those magic hands would feel on you skin!" her brunette friend giggled, tossing her hair._

I came back to the present, staring at the piano. He was still sitting there, playing. Marika sat beside me, singing the lyrics in perfect English under her breath.

"I really hope you get it, And you don't live to regret it, I hope you're happy in the end, I hope you're happy, my friend . . ." she whisper-sang.

If I was still dating _him_, and if I had any guts, I'd probably have been up there singing Elphaba's part along to him playing. But, I wasn't, and I didn't have guts, so I stayed put and ignored the fact that he was playing my favourite _Wicked_ song flawlessly. If Stephen Schwartz was here listening, he would probably be crying in happiness over the fact that someone was playing his song perfectly.

I shook those thoughts out of my head and looked down at the sheet music for _West Side Story: A Medley_. It was a long and complex piece, but I knew that I could play it right. I'd been winning competitions for playing the flute since I turned five. I needed to one-up _him_ just once in my life.

He played the final notes to Defying Gravity and the whole class clapped. I crossed my arms across my chest and shook my head. "Wasn't 'e just amazing?" Marika asked me, clasping my wrist in her hands.

"Yeah, amazing," I told her half-heartedly. Ms. Viola stood up.

"That was fabulous, as always. Alright, so next up we have . . . Clarissa Fairchild! Come on up Clarissa! You're the next musician to perform!" Ms. Viola called out.

I took a deep breath and stood up. I picked my flute up and set my sheet music on the stand. Ms. Viola gave me a thumbs up and pressed the record button. "My name is Clary Fairchild, and I'm going to be playing _West Side Story: A Medley_."

I took a deep breath and began playing. The medley started with a very slow version of _Tonight_. The song sped up as it transitioned into _I Feel Pretty_, and then to _Something's Coming_. I let my gaze travel to the second page of the song, nailing every note. If Simon was here to see this, he'd probably we clapping and shouting out some lame D and D or World of Warcraft analogies that were supposed to make me try harder. I sort of missed him. Almost.

I moved on to the third page, feeling confident in my ability to ace the test. The score switched to the song _Maria_ and I began to play louder, like the score directed. Finally, I played the very end of the _Finale_. The song ended and I lowered my flute, taking deep breaths. Everyone erupted into cheers and I felt myself smiling triumphantly. In my mind, I had finally beat him at something.

"Wow! Who taught you to play like that? I need to meet your past teachers, you played that better than I can. And that, class, is how to get one hundred percent on a playing test. Fabulous job, Clary. Just spectacular. Congratulations, that puts you as the highest mark in the class!" Ms. Viola exclaimed. I felt a smirk crawl across my lips. If it wasn't such a childish gesture, I might've stuck my tongue out at him. I was tempted to, but I resisted the urge.

I had lots of practice 'resisting'. I 'resisted' running into Cam's arms the day after I broke whatever I had with You-Know-Who off. I 'resisted' screaming at Cam, and just went for a simple slap, followed by the silent treatment. I 'resisted' slapping Isabelle every time she brought up some 'funny story' about what _he_ did last night.

I sat down, my heart pounding in my chest. Suddenly, I could feel someone's hot breath in my ear. "Clary? Psst . . . Clary?" Marika whispered.

I snapped back to reality. "What?" I whispered back.

"Ms. Viola's been trying to get your attention for two minutes now," Marika informed me. I looked up to see Ms. Viola's caring face.

"Ms. Fairchild, are you alright? You look faint. Take a few deep breaths, I don't want you passing out in my class. Oh, and a boy just dropped this off," Ms. Viola said, handing me a piece of paper.

I took the folded the folded note from her. "Thanks, Ms. V. And I'm fine, I was a little light headed for a minute, but I'm fine now." I told her.

She gave me a nod, then turned back to address the class. I waited until Marika turned away, then opened the note.

_Dearest darling Clarissa, You're beating me. And I don't like it one bit. I don't lose, _ever_. So enjoy your victory, but it won't last long, I promise. Attraction is a strange thing; you can push it aside as much as you like, but it never goes away. And I know just how to make them resurface. Since you've made it this far, I'll let you choose one person you want to save—meaning that this time, they will not be harmed in the least. Here are your choices: Simon, Isabelle, Mrs. Lewis, Alec. Choose wisely. I'll know your choice._

—_xoxoxo_

Hands shaking, I folded up the note. _They're lying. I have no feelings for him, those are all gone. Gone, gone, gone. Destroyed, crushed, broken, recycled, thrown in the garbage. _I recited. Chanted, was more like it.

Suddenly, the bell rang and Ms. Viola told us we could leave. I walked out of class, not bothering to say good-bye to Marika, who was chatting with Jace. I walked down the hall to where my locker was, looking over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one was following me. I threw my books in my messenger bag. My mind reeled, going through the names on the note. _Simon, Isabelle, Mrs. Lewis, Alec. Simon, Isabelle, Mrs. Lewis, Alec. Simon, Isabelle, Mrs. Lewis, Alec. Simon, Isabelle, Mrs. Lewis, Alec. Simon, Isabelle, Mrs. Lewis, Alec._ If I had the option, I would save all of them. Having to choose was just cruel. Simon was my first choice to save, of course. I would do anything for him, that's what being best friends meant.

I met Simon downstairs and he drove me to where I worked. I had quit my job at Hollister and taken up a job waiting table at Taki's. Usually, our 'car conversations' as Simon liked to call them, ranged from anything about school to something someone said on the news. Today, however, Simon was oddly silent. I was sitting in the back seat of the car, trying to get changed into my work clothes without actually stripping.

"You're really quiet Simon, do you have laryngitis? Do I need to call Isabelle so she can nurse you back to health?" Isabelle and Simon had been an official couple for two whole months now. I wriggled my work t-shirt over my head and slipped the shirt I'd been wearing all day down so it pooled at my ankles. My Taki's uniform was a stretchy white v-neck t-shirt—not the easiest thing to keep clean or find the right bra to wear under, luckily it was made of a not-so-see-through material—and a pair of black yoga pants, which I had already managed to get on.

"No!" Simon said, a little too quickly.

"What's wrong, Si?" I asked, bending down to retrieve my t-shirt.

"Nothing, Isabelle's a little mad at me, that's all. I, I don't know, I said something about maybe not going to prom and she completely flipped. I'm just not sure, some of the guys wanted to have a huge gaming tournament at our house that night and I'm sorta stuck between my best friends and my girlfriend, so . . ." Simon's face turned beet red.

I sighed. "Simon, for girls like Isabelle, not going to prom is like the apocalypse. I guess that for her, it could be—socially, I mean. Call of the gaming night and tell Matt and Kirk to stop being sucks and go ask a girl to prom. It's not like they're like, _hideous_ or anything, I'm sure there are a lot of non-emo gamer chicks out there," I said, trying to convince Simon to go.

"That's where you're wrong. All the gamer chicks _they_ know are total goths. Black make-up, black nail polish, raccoon eyes, the works. Not the most attractive. Besides, I doubt Iz even wants to go with me now. She's probably found some hot senior to take her. Anyway, we're at Taki's, Clary, you'd better go in," Simon said dejectedly.

"Izzy doesn't bounce back that quickly. When you get home, I want you to put on your nicest casual clothes and take her here for an impromptu date and apologize. I'll make sure you're seated in my section so I can help you. Thanks for the ride, and I'll be expecting you here in half an hour. Bye, Si!" I hopped out and slammed the car door, simultaneously slinging my drawstring bag onto my shoulder.

I watched him drive away before I entered the restaurant I don't know what drove me to apply at Taki's. From the outside, the place looked like a prison. But on the inside it was one of the most gorgeous restaurants in town. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the tables were covered with lace tablecloths.

The looks weren't the only reason I applied. I applied because _he_ used to frequent the place, and if I started working here, he'd have to leave. It was petty, but it felt like winning. It felt like it made me safer, knowing that was one less place I'd have to worry about him being.

But today was not my lucky day. I stood in the back, tying my apron around my waist and tying my hair up in a messy bun. I stabbed an extras pencil through the bun and grabbed my order pad. "Tables five and seven are waiting for their orders to be taken!" Rena, one of the greeters, called.

"Got it!" I shouted back, walking out of the server's area. I scribbled the words _Table Five_ on the top of my pad as i walked over to the table. Without looking up, I started saying the script I knew off by heart.

"Hi, welcome to Taki's, New York's best. I'm Clary and I'll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you to drink?" I set five menus on the table—one for each head.

"I want whatever you got baby," one of the people said and I looked up from my pad.

They were a bunch of guys from my school—Sebastian, _him_, Cam, Mitchell, and their Grade-9-tag-along Kris Arbour, I swear the kid _hero-worships_ them. The one who spoke was Sebastian, with his oddly familiar voice, and familiar face.

"Ha, ha," I said dryly. "How old are you, seven? My little cousin has more class than you, and he's only five." Okay, well I don't actually have any cousins that old—or any cousins at all, actually—but it's not like he knew that.

"Seb, that was probably the most outplayed pick-up line ever," _he_ said. His voice was the same as always, sensual, drawling, but smart. Not lazy in his English, no shortening 'probably' to 'probs' or anything else. It used to make me smile, but now the drawl pissed me off.

"Oh yeah, Lightwood? You think you can do better?" Sebastian taunted. _His_ eyes turned a molten shade of gold.

"I know I can do better, Verlac. You have about as much skill as you have friends—minimal," _he_ shot back.

"Guys! He_llo_? Do you want drinks?" I asked, my voice rising an octave in pitch.

"We'll take iced water. And Clary, I'm sorry about those two," Cam said, trying to sweet-talk me.

"Yeah, I'm sure you are. You probably put them up to it so you'd seem even sweeter. Idiot." I said, turning on my heel and going to get their drinks.

I came back a minute later, holding their drinks on a serving tray. "Iced water," I stated, placing one cup in front of each of them.

"Thanks, babe. You know, you look really hot in that white shirt, but I think it might look better wet." Sebastian smiled angelically.

"Perv," I said, almost reaching over to knock his water on him. I shook my head and turned on my heel to walk back to the kitchen to send Jill out here instead.

"Sorry, I think he's a little hyped up on something. Take shots before you came here, man?" Cam asked Sebastian.

"Pain meds. I'm wounded. I got in a fight protecting your good name, baby," Sebastian joked.

"Do you want food or can I leave and go do something more useful? Personally, I think you should leave. I'm going to send Jill over here to serve you before you waist any more of my time, okay?" I said, leaving before they could say anything else. Once I was in the kitchen, I located Jill. She was my fifty year old boss who had a wicked right hook. She was a world-class boxing champion at one point, apparently.

"Hey, Jill. There are some guys at Table Five who're giving me and the other waitresses a problem. Can you go set them straight?" I asked Jill.

She turned and patted me on the shoulder. "Of course, doll. That one with the dark hair looks like trouble."

"He's the worst." I told her. I passed her my order pad and grabbed a new one. Someone had already started serving table 7, so I looked around for another. A familiar raven-haired girl sat at one table and I headed over to where she was sitting.

"Isabelle! What are you doing here?" I asked feigning innocence.

"Simon took me out on a date! A real date to a legit restaurant!" Isabelle squealed. I smiled at her.

"Where is he?" I looked around for Simon.

"He said he wanted to look for you, but I'll text him so he can know you found us." Isabelle took her phone out of her pocket and tapped a message to Simon.

"So, since I'm working, are you interested in a drink?" I asked, holding my pad out professionally.

Isabelle nodded. "I'll take a berry smoothie, and I think Simon will take a coffee. You know how he likes his coffee, so I'll leave the fixings up to you."

I scribbled the orders down on my pad. "Got it. I'll be back in a sec." With that, I walked back to

the kitchen.

I put the ingredients for Izzy's smoothie in the blender and poured Simon coffee from the pot. Once they were finished, I walked back out to bring them their drinks. Half way to their table, I heard screams and a gunshot coming from outside.

Isabelle was squished against Simon. who had his arms around her. I dropped their drinks off at their table. "I'm going to go see what's happening out there," I told them, dropping my pencil and pad at the table too.

"Don't get hurt," Simon told me, accepting that I was too stubborn to be swayed from my decision.

I ran to the doors and swung them open. I scanned the parking lot. No one was there except for a few squirrels. I dashed around to the side and saw my boss lying on the ground, blood spilling out of a wound on her leg. I looked around to make sure the freak with the gun was gone—an environment check like they tell you to do when you take first aid courses— before rushing over to her. or, I would've rushed over to her if I hadn't seen something that made my heart skip a few beats while looking over the area.

_Him_. You-Know-Who. _He_ was lying on the pavement too, propped up on one elbow and cupping his side. His fingers were tinged red.

"_Jace!_" I screamed, running towards him at full speed. He looked up, clearly startled by my scream.

"Hey Clary," he said weakly. He winced, removing his hand to check his side.

"Don't you dare 'Hey Clary' me, Jace Lightwood. You're shot. How the hell did that happen?" I asked, frustrated with myself for caring about him.

"I wasn't really shot. I mean, the shot wasn't for me, it only clipped my leg. It was aimed at her. She got the worst of it," Jace pointed at Jill.

"God, Jace, why did you put yourself in front of a bullet that wasn't aimed for you?" I asked, but I already knew the answer. It was because he was acting like a damn martyr, acting now and thinking later.

"Just, go tend to her, I'm fine," Jace protested, his leg turning a purple colour. I was no doctor, but I was pretty sure that wasn't a good thing. I reached into his jacket pocket—a risky move, but I made an effort to only touch the jacket and not him—and pulled out his cell phone.

I dialled 9-1-1 and put the phone to my ear. "Hi, my name is Clary Fairchild, and I'm standing outside of Taki's restaurant in Manhattan. I have two victims of a shooting, one male and 17 years old and one woman around 45 or 50 years old . . ."

Jace PoV

_BEEP . . . beep . . . BEEP . . . beep . . . BEEP . . . beep_.

"I think he's waking up."

"His scans are good, no major arteries were punctured."

"His breathing and heart rates are normal, but I'd like to run a few more tests to make sure he didn't get any blood poisoning from the bullet."

The noises faded as blackness rushed over me, pulling me back down.

"Sweetie, can you open your eyes? I just need you to open them for me for two seconds."

I fought to open my eyelids and squinted into a bright light.

"No concussion, he should be fine," the voice said to someone. "You can rest now, hon," the voice was talking to me again.

I let myself float in the darkness, feeling weightless. The only thing that kept me anchored was the pain I felt in my leg. While I lay there, I was bombarded by memories.

_I sat in a corner, my head between my knees. Nausea coursed through me, and I felt like my head was going to split open. Dark spots danced across my vision, and a tear ran down my face._

_"Jonathan, get the hell up. What do you think you're doing, cowering in a corner?" a harsh voice barked in my ear. A rough hand gripped my face, forcing me to look at him. I opened my mouth and bit his finger with all my might._

_"Stupid son of a bitch, why'd you bite me? Jonathan Christopher, answer me or you're going straight to your room with no dinner!" the man screamed at me._

_"I don't like needles," I whimpered, tasting his blood on my tongue. It was disgusting._

_"It was necessary, Jonathan. Don't be such a baby, take it like a man. It's for the best. Do you want to be able to get hurt? Do you want broken bones to take months to heal or do you want them to only take a few hours? Do you _want_to go to the doctors?"_

_I shook my head. "No," I whispered, my throat dry from crying._

_"That's what I thought. No get up, and come eat."_

The memory faded, leaving me feeling heavy. _Get up_, I told myself. _You need to open your eyes_.

_I sat at a table with Sebastian and a couple of other guys from the lacrosse team. I had promised them that we'd go out to celebrate the success of our season. They hadn't held a world championship tournament this year, but we had gotten named Best Team in North America._

_Clary was originally our waitress, but Seb had it in his mind to harass her, so she had went to get us a new server. I didn't really care, it wasn't like she was serving _me_ personally._

_I watched as another waitress came out, this one about fifty years old and built like a wrestler. From looking at her, I knew she wouldn't take any of Seb's crap._

_"How can I help you boys?" she said, coming off friendly. Something in her eyes made me think she was pissed off at us for harassing the other wait staff._

_"You can take these drinks back, because something just came up and we have to leave," Sebastian said, surprising us all._

_"What the hell? I'm starving, man!" Cam complained in a whisper._

_"Sorry, I just remembered something. You can eat here, but I need to go."_

_Sebastian never said 'sorry'. It was a surprise he even knew how to use the word in a sentence. He got up, leaving the rest of us at the table._

_We were about to order, when someone called our waitress—her name was Jill—to tell her that her car alarm was going off. Jill rushed out the door, and I followed, going on a gut feeling that something was wrong._

_I was right. I got out in time to hear a gun being shot. the first shot missed her, hitting a truck on the other side of the parking lot. I heard the shooter loading up a second shot and lunged in front of Jill, taking the bullet to my leg._

_Everything went black, and suddenly Clary was beside me, demanding to know what had happened._

I forced my eyes open, tired of the memories. I saw the machinery I was hooked up to, one keeping track of heart beat and an intravenous drip hooked up to the needle in my hand. Isabelle and Alec were sitting in the chairs on the other side of the room.

Alec, hearing the bed rustle, got up and walked over. He leaned on the bar that was keeping me from rolling off the bed.

"Hey, Jace. How're you feeling?" Alec asked in a soft voice.

"Like I got run over by a bus," I said hoarsely. "Water, Alec?"

"I'll have to ask your nurse, she's in charge of you until they say you can go home." Alec explained. He walked back over to Isabelle and woke her up, whispering to her something about him going to get the nurse.

Iz walked over to my head, holding a coffee in her hand. "Hey, Jace. Nice to see your eyes open," Izzy said.

"Thanks Iz. How long have I been here for?" I asked.

"Oh, only like two days. Val was here up until about an hour ago because she had a family dinner to go to. Hopefully they'll discharge you soon, because between you and me, hospital coffee sucks."

I spared having to respond by Alec and the nurse walking in. "Mr. Lightwood, it's great to see you sitting up. How do you feel? Is your leg still sore?" the nurse asked.

"It feels fine, but my throat's sore and I'm a little sore," I told her.

She nodded and jotted something on a clipboard. She checked the monitors around my bed. "You're pulse and breathing seem normal enough. If you're ready, I can file the paperwork for your discharge today."

I nodded. "I feel fine, honestly. I can barely feel the pain in my leg."

"That's probably because you're on five different painkillers. You probably don't remember this, but yesterday you were moaning about your leg and thrashing, so we figured it was safest to put you on painkillers. I must say, you recovered _much_ quicker than most people, though. That girl must've gotten to you at the right time. You have a lot of kissing up to do for a few weeks," the nurse laughed.

I felt a pang in my gut. _Clary_. The only reason I wasn't having my leg amputated was because she risked her life to venture out and see what was happening. Well, I owed her _big time_. Memories of Clary brought up memories of Jill lying on the ground. "How—how is Jill doing?" I asked.

The nurse looked surprised that I asked. "She's recovering. Not as swiftly as you, but then again her wound was much more dangerous, but she's doing very well. No major organs were ruptured, which gives her a higher chance of recovering."

I nodded and gave the nurse a forced smile. _Some lady I don't even know is in the hospital, and it's probably because of me_.

"I'll go give the secretary the paperwork, and while I'm doing that why don't you try to sit up for me. When i get back, I'll bring you some crushed ice and unhook your IV drip." With that, the nurse left.

Isabelle busied herself with digging around in her massive purse to find the clothes she brought for me. Alec, on the other hand, was caring enough to help me sit up.

"Slowly, Jace. If you sit up too quickly, you'll feel faint and lie back down again, which we don't want," Alec scolded me.

"Hmm-mm," I said distractedly. I was too busy watching the IV drip and pushing down the unwanted memories that came with it.

Eventually, I sat up at the speed Alec wanted me to. I felt a little light-headed, but that was probably from going three days without food. Maybe Maryse would make her amazing pancakes for me when I got back home.

The nurse came back shortly after, seeming very pleased that I was able to sit up. She gave me the cup of crushed ice, which Mother Alec made me drink 'slowly'. She unhooked my IV, and I was very glad when the needle was out of my hand.

"If you can stand, you can get dressed now. Just call me before you leave, there are a few things I need to give you—basically do's and don'ts for the next two weeks," the nurse told me. I nodded and waited until she was out of the room before I let Alec help me to stand.

"Here are you clothes, Jace. I'm going to go down to the lobby and buy a new coffee from Starbucks," Isabelle said, tossing her cup in the garbage and placing my clothes on the bed before walking out the door.

With a little help from Alec, I was able to change out of the hospital gown and into my clothes. The hardest part was getting my shoelaces tied. My leg may not be in pain, but it was still stiff and trying to bend it was difficult. I ended up opting to just tuck the laces into my shoe.

Alec got the nurse, who handed me a pamphlet . She was right; it was a booklet of rules. For the next two weeks, I was free to go to school, but I was excused from all strenuous activity, and I wasn't allowed to walk up the stairs while at school. I wasn't allowed to walk on my leg for more than an hour at a time without a half-hour break in between one hour and the next. There was no strict diet, but there were a bunch of stretches I was supposed to try and work through each morning, increasing the number of repetitions by one every other day.

There are some things I wished I could forget about the last couple of days, but the thing I wanted to forget the most was her face when she saw me lying on the ground. That look of tender care and anxiety. For two minutes, she forgot that we were broken up and hadn't talked for months and helped me. I wished I could forget that the most, because it would make seeing her again that much harder.

**How was that? Did everyone seem in character? I thought so. So, there are no chapter 'win-an-excerpt' questions for this chapter. Just give me your opinion on what you think and any constructive criticisms and I'll send you an excerpt- if you are reviewing anonymously (aka not from an account) and you do have an actual account leave your account name in the review, or PM me and I'll send you the excerpt that way. **

**Below are the translations for anyone who was curious. I don't actually speak much Dutch—I know like 3 words—so I used Google Translator which is an amazing translator!**

**Dutch Translations:**

*****_**Ik hou van**_**- I love**

*****_**Ja**_**- Yes**

*****_**Echt goed**_**- Really good**

*****_**Wat liedjes heb je gekozen**_**- What songs did you choose**

**Since it's Christmas, here is a little excerpt from the next chapter—if you review, you'll get an even bigger one. **

14. Prom . . . ises

3rd Person

He trudged along, making an effort to walk through every puddle he could. The sky was a dreary black and clouds suffocated the sun and doused the earth with a rain too cold to be normal for June. His hair was drenched and water dripped down his face.

_Damn life. I'm not a murderer_, he thought. _I'm normal. I'm not perfect, but I'm normal. I drink coffee like there's no tomorrow. I flirt with girls and tell them they look hot even when they are drunk and they look ugly as hell because their make-up is smudged from sweating like pigs. I'm not a bad guy_.

His mood was as black as the clouds that barricaded the sky, and as horrible as the cheap coffee he was crushing in his hands.

_God dammit!_ he cursed to himself. _Why is he making me do this? Why her? I was just as guilty!_ He wished he could stand in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge and scream at the heavens how sorry he was for everything he had done.

He had decided that life sucks, and that no matter what you do, bad things always find a way into your hands. Like the way he was handed the gun, the way his hand was guided to pull it, to shoot, to kill. To be a damn murderer.

Last he heard, the lady was in the hospital in the ICU. She was in the _intensive care unit_. And why? Because he was a freaking idiot who didn't the guts to say _no_.

_**Flashback**_

_ He stood beside the girl, her hands shaking as she dialled the number. He heard the dial-tone and the lady on the other end say _hello_. _

_ "Grams," the girl whispered, her voice shaking like her hands. He wanted to put his hands around hers, to give her strength. _

I want you to record that conversation for me. I know what you did, and I'll forgive you if you do this one thing for me_, he had been told. He had nodded and agreed, knowing that the man wasn't someone you wanted to get on the bad side of. _I care about you, and the last thing I want to do is lose you. You're mine, the way that she was hers.

_ "Grams, he . . . he did something bad. Really bad. And I don't know what to do," the girl sobbed, her tears rolling down her face. He wanted to hug her so badly it was an ache. But he held back, keeping his face as smooth and as calm as possible._

_ There was static on the other end as the lady starting speaking. _

_ "Grams, a lawsuit? But she's dead now, there's nothing to win. At . . . at best, I'll get money, b__—__but, I have so much to lose," she turned her teary eyes to him as she spoke, sending looks that begged for help. _

_ He shrugged, because his hands were tied. _Stupid promise, stupid 'obligations'_, he thought. I controlled his face to reflect nothing of his inner turmoil. _

_ "Grams, I'll go through with it. I'll talk to him, he's a good lawyer. I photocopied the papers; I have proof. I'll go to the hospital tomorrow and ask them about the births. Thank you, Grams. You're the best!" she hung up, her face slightly uplifted. _

_ "I'm doing the lawsuit," she told him. His stomach dropped and he pressed the button on his phone to stop the recording. _I'm ruining her life_, he thought. _

_**End of Flashback**_

He walked through the alley, going to meet the man who made him a murderer. To get his next orders on how to further ruin lives. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with it, but he knew he had to, or everything he had worked so hard to build for himself would be gone.

He met the man in the alley and leaned in close. He felt hot breath against his cheek as he was given his next orders.

Three words were given to him. _Go to prom_. Three horrible words.

"Who do I take?" he whispered back, terrified of what the answer might be.

"Take his old girlfriend. She's a worthless slut; you'll be able to dump her easier."

**Okay, so have a great Christmas!**


	14. Set Up

**Heyy! First off, yes I'm back. Don't worry I didn't die. I'm very alive. I _have_ been swamped with schoolwork, though. Seriously, this is my easy semester and all of my teachers have decided that even though we do a lot of nothing in class, they're going to give completely unnecessary homework. Well, I'm sure that in their minds, me learning about the weapons of World War 1 and 2 is necessary, but not to me. So yeah, those are my excuses. Also, this is unbeta'd at the moment, but I once my wonderfully awesome beta gets back to me with the edited version, I'll repost this with the edits.**

**Anyway, on to the chapter.**

**Chapter Songs:**

*****_Russian Roulette_- Rihanna (1st Scene)**

*****_Gunnin_'- Hedley (Second Scene)**

*****_Unlove You_- Elise Estrada (Third Scene)**

*****_2 In The Morning_- Girlicious (Fourth Scene)**

*****_Lipstick_- Elise Estrada (Final Scene)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

14. Set Up

3rd Person

He trudged along, making an effort to walk through every puddle he could. The sky was a dreary black and clouds suffocated the sun and doused the earth with a rain too cold to be normal for June. His hair was drenched and water dripped down his face.

_Damn life. I'm not a murderer_, he thought. _I'm normal. I'm not perfect, but I'm normal. I drink coffee like there's no tomorrow. I flirt with girls and tell them they look hot even when they are drunk and they look ugly as hell because their make-up is smudged from sweating like pigs. I'm not a bad guy_.

His mood was as black as the clouds that barricaded the sky, and as horrible as the cheap coffee he was crushing in his hands.

_God dammit!_ He cursed to himself. _Why is he making me do this? Why her? I was just as guilty!_ He wished he could stand in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge and scream at the heavens how sorry he was for everything he had done.

He had decided that life sucks, and that no matter what you do, bad things always find a way into your hands. Like the way he was handed the gun, the way his hand was guided to pull it, to shoot, to kill. To be a damn murderer.

Last he heard, the lady was in the hospital in the ICU. She was in the _intensive care unit_. And why? Because he was a freaking idiot who didn't the guts to say _no_.

_**Flashback**_

_ He stood beside the girl, her hands shaking as she dialled the number. He heard the dial-tone and the lady on the other end say _hello_. _

_ "Grams," the girl whispered, her voice shaking like her hands. He wanted to put his hands around hers, to give her strength. _

I want you to record that conversation for me. I know what you did, and I'll forgive you if you do this one thing for me_, he had been told. He had nodded and agreed, knowing that the man wasn't someone you wanted to get on the bad side of. _I care about you, and the last thing I want to do is lose you. You're mine, the way that she was hers.

_ "Grams, he . . . he did something bad. Really bad. And I don't know what to do," the girl sobbed, her tears rolling down her face. He wanted to hug her so badly it was an ache. But he held back, keeping his face as smooth and as calm as possible._

_ There was static on the other end as the lady starting speaking. _

_ "Grams, a lawsuit? But she's dead now, there's nothing to win. At . . . at best, I'll get money, b—but, I have so much to lose," she turned her teary eyes to him as she spoke; sending looks that begged for help. _

_ He shrugged, because his hands were tied. _Stupid promise, stupid 'obligations'_, he thought. I controlled his face to reflect nothing of his inner turmoil. _

_ "Grams, I'll go through with it. I'll talk to him, he's a good lawyer. I photocopied the papers; I have proof. I'll go to the hospital tomorrow and ask them about the births. Thank you, Grams. You're the best!" she hung up, her face slightly uplifted. _

_ "I'm doing the lawsuit," she told him. His stomach dropped and he pressed the button on his phone to stop the recording. _I'm ruining her life_, he thought. _

_**End of Flashback**_

He walked through the alley, going to meet the man who made him a murderer. To get his next orders on how to further ruin lives. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with it, but he knew he had to, or everything he had worked so hard to build for himself would be gone.

He met the man in the alley and leaned in close. He felt hot breath against his cheek as he was given his next orders.

Three words were given to him. _Go to prom_. Three horrible words.

"Who do I take?" he whispered back, terrified of what the answer might be.

"Take his old girlfriend. She's a worthless slut; you'll be able to dump her easier."

Jace PoV

"Alec, can you grab my 7-Up for me?"

Alec looked up from his book. "You're allowed to walk short distances, Jace. Go get it for yourself. I'm busy."

"Busy doing what? Reading a book your boyfriend got you? Alec, I just got shot, you're not being very nice, considering that I just went through a very traumatic experience," I complained, wrapping my arm around my girlfriend.

She pushed my arm off of her. "Jace, leave poor Alec alone. He's reading a really good book; I love _House of Night_. I'll go get your drink, okay, baby? Just keep resting your leg. You bought those prom tickets, so it would be a waste for us not to be able to go for at least an hour or two tonight." She kissed my cheek before getting up and grabbing my drink.

"Thanks, Val," I said, fluffing the pillow my leg was propped up on. Yes, I was milking the whole 'I just got shot' thing, but the experience was worth letting my girlfriend fuss over me for. The least I could do was go along with everything she wanted, especially since I felt so guilty about my thoughts of Clary.

"Yeah, thanks Val. You're the best girlfriend Jace has ever had, don't you even _think_ about breaking up with him," Alec said, and i could tell how fond he was of Val. If he wasn't gay, I'd have suggested that he date her. And, you know, if she wasn't dating _me_.

Val came back with my drink a moment later and she looked at the clock. "I've gotta go, Jace. I promised Jess and Lily that I'd get ready with them. You're picking me up at 7:30 right?"

I nodded at her. "Yeah. I'll see you then. And Val," I said as she started to turn away.

"Yes, Jace?"

"I love you, and we can stay at prom as long as you'd like. My leg will be fine, I'm just babying it, which probably isn't the greatest for the healing process anyway," I told her, even thought the first three words didn't feel as great as I thought they would.

"I love you, too. I'll see you tonight," she said, smiling at me. She grabbed her car keys off their hook and walked outside. I heard her car engine start up and then get quieter as she drove away. I let out a sigh and took a gulp of my 7-Up, grimacing as I remembered it was carbonated and the bubbles seared my throat.

Alec coughed as he was reading his novel. "Wow, Jace. You 'love' her? I never thought I'd hear _you_ say those words. Is she 'the one'?" he teased.

_I want her to be, but I don't think she really i_s.

"What did you say, Jace?" Alec asked. I looked up, not aware that I had actually said that out loud.

"Nothing, Alec. Just shut up and read your girly book," I snapped back. Love was a touchy topic for me.

"It's not that girly," he said, tucking the paperback under his arm and looking stung.

"Yeah, Alec, it's not girly in the least. Even though it's about vampires, and the main character is a _girl_," I said harshly. I wasn't in a good mood today.

My leg didn't hurt that much, and at the rate I was healing, I could probably make it though the whole night walking on it. What I didn't want was to run into _her_.

I hadn't seen her since I was shot. She never visited me in the hospital, but Isabelle did bring me a super-generic _Get Well Soon_ card that had _her_ name signed on it.

Yes, I was still not naming her. Every time I said or thought her name, memories would come up, horrible unwanted memories that I worked so hard to keep out. Any walls I had built around those memories would dissolve, and the memories would bombard me. There weren't many memories locked up in that category, but they were all powerful.

_The more I think about this, the easier it will be for the memories to come back_, I thought. _No more thinking_.

I turned to Alec, about to comment on his bookmark—it was pink and sparkly—when the doorbell rang.

"Jace, go get the door," Alec said, not glancing up from his book.

"I'm _injured_ Alec. Your legs work fine; why can't you go get it?" I demanded.

"I can't go get it because Stevie Rae is dying and if I get up I might start crying," Alec mumbled.

"He died a while ago, Alec. What kind of vampire book is that?" I asked.

Alec shook his head at me. "Not the famous blues musician, Jace. It's a girl, and she's dying because her body is rejecting the change from fledgling to vampire!" Alec's voice rose to a shriek at the end.

"Calm down, Alec. You're turning into Isabelle. I'll get it," I caved, gingerly standing on my leg. In all honesty, it felt perfectly fine, but I didn't want to risk re-opening the wound before tonight.

"Is someone going to get that?" Izzy shouted from upstairs. She got back from her spa treatment about an hour ago and had locked herself in her room to get ready for prom.

"I'm getting it, Iz. Go back to whatever you were doing," I called. I was almost at the door when Isabelle answered.

"Okay. Well, send her up when you get to the door! Tell her my door is unlocked even though it's shut and that she doesn't need to knock on my bedroom door."

Wait. _Her_? I took a deep breath and opened the door. Sure enough, _she_ was the one standing on the porch, a dress bag slung over her shoulder and strappy black stiletto's dangling from her fingers.

"Hi, Jace," she said, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Hi," I said shortly, opening the door a little wider. "Iz told me to tell you that she's in her room, and although her door is closed, its unlocked and you can go right in." _God, I'm such an idiot_.

"Thanks," she said, staring awkwardly at the ground. "Your leg must feel better if you're walking on it," she said, the same way you would say 'It's colder out here when the sun's gone'.

"Yeah, it's better," I said, the way you'd say 'Yeah, its pretty cold out'. I had to force my next words out, not because I was a stubborn ass, but because talking to her like this hurt. A lot. "Thanks. For . . . everything. Calling the hospital, I mean." _What happened to being eloquent?_

She stared at her shoes. "Oh, that. It was no—no problem. Standard first aid practice."

_Of course it was_. "Well, it was good thinking of you. Izzy's waiting for you, if you don't get up there she'll probably assume I torturing you down here." I got out of the way so she could walk in.

I left her to shut the door and walk up the stairs and made my way back to the living room.

"Damn you," I told Alec, sitting back down and lifting my leg to rest on a pillow.

"Huh?" Alec looked up, his eyes a little teary.

I sighed and put my head in my palms. "Alec, are you seriously crying because some girl named after Stevie Ray Vaughan just died in a _fictional book_?" I asked him.

"Yes, Jace. And I'm not afraid to show it," Alec said, holding his head up high with a dignified air.

I reached into my pocket and took my phone out, pointing the camera at Alec's face. "Really? So can I take a picture and post it on Facebook?" I asked.

"Shut the hell up, Jace. Put the phone away and turn on a damn sports game or something," Alec seethed, clearly through with the all crap I'd been giving him all day.

I was too busy trying to calm myself down to do anything but sit there. I didn't even know _why_ I was upset. Actually, I know why. I was so upset over all of the unwanted memories that Clary made me think of that the only thing I could do to ease the pain was piss others off. And I was doing a damn good job.

Isabelle PoV

Watching two people break each other's hearts is hard. I have had, and caused, my fair share of heart breaks, but I had no idea that they actually hurt the people close to the heart-broken. I had my first heart break when I was eleven. His name was Jack, and if you had asked the eleven-year-old-Isabelle if she loved him, she'd have sworn yes, up and down. He was a year older than me, twelve, and I thought he was the hottest thing on the face of this earth. He was your classic middle-school bad-boy. His hair was the same colour as my favourite chocolate brown Coach tote, and his eyes were greener than anything I had ever seen before. I remember thinking that the best thing about him was that he was taller than me. If I had wanted to, I could've rested my head on his chest. And did I _ever_ want that.

It was June, close to summer vacation, and my best friend Anne and I made a pact to have a boyfriend by the end of the school year. I had my sights set on Jack, and I oriented my whole day around flirting with him and getting to know his friends. His best-y was a super-cute guy named Tyler and, if I wasn't head-over-heels in love with Jack, I would've wanted him. Ty was hilarious and hot as hell, but he had a girlfriend, and even _I_ knew enough to not go after an already taken boy.

Anyway, back to Jack. Rhyming not intended. So, on the last day of school before summer vacation, Jack kissed me. On the lips. My world was spinning. That was my first kiss, and I swear to God, I compare every kiss I have to that one because regardless of who the kiss was with, it was the perfect mix of rose petal sweetness and firework spark that every girl wishes for.

Jack and I dated all summer, and it was like magic. We went on walks through Central Park, he bought me teddy bears—of every colour imaginable— and he even went _shoe-shopping_ with me. Amazing, right? More like too good to be true. Here's where the heart-break comes in—I caught him cheating on me with my best friend. They were making out under _my window_, like he was flaunting the fact that he could have both of us. So I did what any other girl would've done. I walked down, wearing my purple silk Victoria Secret pyjamas and slapped him. Hard. Then I turned on my heel and walked back inside, like I was just checking the rain gauge or something. From that day, I swore to never give my heart away again, because it only ever leads to heart-break.

Until now. Here I was in my bedroom, standing in front of my huge mirror, getting ready for prom. And this time, it wasn't an oh-you're-hot-so-I'll-go-with-you-because-we-compliment-each-other's-social-statuses. I had actually given away my heart to one Simon Lewis, world-ranked COD, WoW, and D&D player.

A knock on my door broke me from my thoughts. "Come in Clary! I'm dressed!" I called, waiting for my best friend to open the door. It opened slowly, as if she couldn't tell if I was serious or not. Finally. When it opened, I could see Clary shaking.

"Iz, he opened the door. I thought you said Alec would get it," Clary said, her voice showing the tears she was holding back. I walked over to her and took the dress bag from her hands. "I wouldn't have agreed to come over if I knew he would be the one answering the door."

"Clary, I didn't know. He's been a lazy ass all day, but I guess he might've thought it was Val. She was over all morning, so he could've thought she had come back because she forgot her phone or something. Why are you two being so stubborn?" I demanded. They made love seem so complicated.

"Look, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me. Just know that I still lo—like him the same as I always have, but I'm doing this to protect you. Just, please, Iz. Trust me," Clary pleaded. Looking at her face, I knew it was the truth.

"Fine. Let's get you dressed then. Even though you don't have a date, I want you to look perfect, so that all the guys who _didn't_ ask you will be eating their hearts out." I said firmly, lead ing her to my vanity table, which looked like a M.A.C truck had exploded on it. I handed Clary my container of make-up remover pads. "Wipe you mascara off, then go wash your face with this—" I handed her a bottle of face scrub and a towel "—in my bathroom. I'm going to set up a make-up palate to match your dress."

"Yes, Ma'am," Clary said, saluting at me. If she was going to be this cooperative, the make-over could be a lot of fun. I checked my lip gloss in the mirror once more before sitting behind my laptop. I clicked on my iTunes and blasted some upbeat music, and then I walked over to my bed and unwrapped Clary's dress. It was emerald green with a little bow around the waist and a tulle skirt. It was gorgeous, but then again I helped her pick it out, so it was expected.

I sorted through my pile of products. _I should really find a way to organize this_, I thought, after noticing that I had—accidentally, of course—mixed gold sparkly eye shadow with rose-coloured blush. Oops. I wiped my hands on the butt of my Hollister track pants, glad that I hadn't changed into _my_ dress yet. I finally chose an emerald and cream coloured eye make-up set and called Clary back into my room.

"I washed my face, Iz. Just so you know, you're not supposed to get this stuff into your mouth. It doesn't taste like maraschino cherry, or almond," Clary informed me, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Thanks Clare, but I found that out a while ago. Jace force-fed me that stuff when we were little kids." I saw Clary's face fall at Jace's name. "Oh, shit. Sorry Clary. I forgot! I am such an idiot!" I slapped my palm to my face.

Clary shook her head. "No, Iz, it's fine. I have to get over it. I can't be sulking over a guy who has obviously moved on." _Or you just think, want to think, he's moved on. He's not that great an actor, sweetheart. His feelings are very thinly masked. _

Kaelie PoV

I sat on my bed, head between my knees. How could it be that _I_, the most _gorgeous_ girl at school, don't have a date from prom? It was the new question of the century. Screw 'to be or not to be', the new question is 'what the hell doesn't Kaelie have a date for the biggest social event of the year'.

I bought my dress last August. I had it specially made for me by one of New York's top designers. My daddy had connections through the university. It was gorgeous—black with white embellishment. There were little rhinestones dotting the fabric and the dress only hit my mid thigh.

It was a sexy dress, the kind that would make your father shoot you if she saw you in it. That's why my daddy wasn't home. He was working late at the university. And my daddy doesn't have a gun.

A knock at my door startled me. I wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe it was Jace, begging for me back. This could be fun. I walked down the stairs, focusing on shaking my hips and butt at the right intervals. Attitude is a big factor in making a guy crave you.

I opened up the door, trying not to be too disappointed that it wasn't Jace begging for me back. It was someone just as good. His name was Sebastian, and I only knew that because he continuously flirted with little miss prude six year old, Clary Fairchild. Everyone seemed to be flirting with her lately. Maybe the whole, I-went-to-private-school thing was considered hot, but I thought that she had all the sexual appeal of a baby-doll. You could have people ooh and ahh over her as you cart her around in a carriage, but that's about all you can do.

I opened the door and leaned against it. "Hey," I purred, figuring that if I couldn't have Jace, Sebastian was certainly the next best thing.

"Hi, Kaelie, I know that this is really last minute, I mean, you're already wearing your dress and me my tux, but I was wondering if you would allow me the pleasure of escorting you to prom." Sebastian plastered on a cute smile.

I shrugged. Super-Hot Seb was better than a No-Show Jace _and_ I _really_ needed to have a date for prom. "Yeah, sure, why don't you come in? I just need to finish doing my hair. You can watch TV while I'm at it and call the limo company." _Jace Lightwood_, I thought, _prepare to be so frickin' jealous_.

******_**2 HOURS LATER**_******

Clary PoV

Isabelle, Simon, and I rode to the Plaza Hotel (where prom was being held this year) in a limo. For my sake, Simon and Izzy withheld from making out in front me and instead settled for holding hands through the entire ride. Isabelle had control of the radio and currently had it set to a station that was playing their 'couple song'. I thought the whole idea was a little absurd, but I guess that since my longest relationship in the past year had lasted one week. That was before I started getting the ominous messages. The latest one had been confusing. _The night you dream of most will be the night that haunts you forever_, it had said. Seeing as even I can't remember my own dreams, I wasn't actually sure what night that was.

For most girls, prom was the night of their dreams. I can't put my finger on what most of my dreams are about. Lately they've been about me and some mysterious boy whose face I never get to see dancing around in the moonlight, under the stars. There's a huge fountain over to the side, and people are sitting on it, laughing and talking.

"Claaaaaaary? Earth to Clary Fairchild? Hello?" Simon asked, waving his hand in front of my face. "We're here Clary."

I blinked a couple of times and saw Isabelle and Simon looking at me with concern. "Oh, sorry, I was just thinking. What were you saying?"

"Just that we're here and the limo driver seems to be in a bit of a hurry to get somewhere else," Simon said, pointing his thumb at where the limo driver was checking his reflection and tie in his mirror.

"Oh," I said, standing up and almost hitting my head on the ceiling. "Ouch." I grabbed my clutch off the seat while Simon snickered.

"Oh, shut up, Simon," Isabelle said, whacking her date on the arm with her clutch.

"Make me," Simon said, his voice low. Isabelle gave a little growl in response and was rewarded with a sly smile from Simon. I cleared my throat, letting them know that I was still there and didn't really want to see the smut show that was inevitably going to follow.

"Right, sorry Clary," Isabelle said, shooting Simon a glare. I childishly stuck my tongue out at him and linked arms with Isabelle.

The lobby of the hotel was gorgeous. Being from Los Angeles, I had seen my fair share of beautiful hotels, but this was something else. A doorman greeted us and gave us directions to the hall where the dance was being held, which we followed. Isabelle seemed to know her way around pretty well, so Simon and I unanimously nominated her as the leader because I was sure to get us lost, and Simon had a weird fascination with shiny things.

When we got to the room, my heart skipped a beat. Not because it was done so well, which it was, but because it was exactly the same as my dreams. _The night you dream of the most will be the night that haunts you forever_. The words echoed through my mind like screams down an empty hallway. _The night that haunts you forever_. Something was going to happen. Something bad, something horrible. I vaguely heard Isabelle asking me if I was okay and I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go in."

**Tada! Yay! So there it is. Sorry that it's a bit of a filler! Next chapter will be more exciting. This chapter had to happen, so we might as well get it out of the way! So review for me? **

**xoxo,**

**FireandIce95**


	15. I Promise You

**You are all so lucky. I'm giving you two chapters in one weekend. Because I felt bad for not updating for so long, and because the last chapter was a filler-cliffie. And that sucked of this chapter is again unbeta'd because my lovely beta is super busy, but once she gets back to me with the edited version I will post it for you. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you'll enjoy! Tank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/favourited/alerted this story so far! You're all wonderful!**

**Chapter Songs:**

*****_Amazing- Hedley (Simon's PoV)_**

**_***Half of My Heart- John Mayer feat. Taylor Swift (Jace's PoV)_**

**_***Fire- Sunloverz feat. Rosette (Sebastian's PoV and beginning of Clary's PoV up until prom royalty dance) _**

**_***Two is Better Than One- Boys Like Girls feat. Taylor Swift (prom king and queen dance scene)_**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the lyrics to _Two is Better Than One_ or _Firework_. I also don't own any characters. The plot belongs to _moi_. **

15. I Promise You

Simon PoV

There are no words to describe the utter awesomeness of this night. It's like the day that my CoD world ranking went into the top fifty, except one million times more awesome. Yes, I'm starting to think that awesome is my word of the hour. How awesome is that?

All awesomeness sayings aside, tonight was perfectly perfect. Reason One: I had the hottest girl in school going to prom with me—stick that up your ass, Eric! Reason Two: said hot girl and I had a hotel room rented for the prom after-party, and you know what that means. Reason Three: the hot girl I was taking to prom told me that my suit makes me look like a sexy James Bond. Oh yes, she did say that. And Reason Four: I was a junior going to senior prom. My bestest friend was a semi-senior because of her classes and was dateless and didn't want to be all alone on the biggest night of her life, so she invited me and my hot date to join her. My junior prom sucked. My friends and I were all dateless so we went for the dinner, then left early to go play Halo. Oh yeah, we're awesome.

So, as you can see, my night has been pretty awes—_great _so far. That was until we got to the Plaza Hotel where the dance and dinner was being held. When we got to the room that the dance and dinner was set up, my best friend got this scared look in her eyes and started shaking. I don't think she realized that she was actually shaking noticeably, and as her best friend who is terribly frightened by her sometimes—most of the time actually; she took some form of self-defence in Los Angeles and whatever she learned, it _hurts_—I refused to be the one to tell her.

Luckily, my super-hot date did. "Clary, honey, are you okay? You look really pale and you're shaking."

Clary looked up at my date, blinking a couple of times. "Yeah, I'm fine, Izzy. This place just looks so beautiful."

Isabelle gave Clary a disapproving look. "Yeah, I'm fine, Izzy. This place just looks so beautiful."

Isabelle gave Clary a disapproving look. "Lies, Clary. You're just nervous because Jace is going to be here."

Clary cringed noticeably at the name. I felt like punching a wall and pretending it was that pretentious asshole's face. "Yeah, that's it. But I'm going to power through this."

Izzy nodded. "Good girl, Clary. You are a strong single woman who looks absolutely gorgeous tonight. Right, Simon?"

I nodded in turn. "Yes, you look absolutely amazing, Clary. I almost don't recognize you."

Clary's features rearranged themselves in a small frown. "What are you suggesting, Simon? That I don't look pretty on a day to day basis?"

I put my hands up in the 'I surrender, please don't hurt me' position. "No, no, you always look awesome." Isabelle sent me a glare. "I mean, you look great usually, but Isabelle looks more beautif—I'm just going to shut up now."

Clary smirked at me and high-fived Isabelle. "That was fun. I think I'm ready to go in now."

Isabelle gave me a small kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for being such a great sport and playing along, Simon."

I shamelessly blushed a deep shade of red. "N—no problem," I stuttered. Isabelle winked at me and linked arms with both me and Clary.

"Look at us," Iz said, "aren't we the most gorgeous group of three you've ever seen?"

I was about to answer when I realized the question was rhetorical. I handed the ticket person our three tickets—which I was forced to buy—and walked in. The place looked amazing. It was like a movie scene, except it was real and not from a horror flick where something was bound to go terribly wrong. Tonight was going to be the best damn night of my high school experience this year and nothing was going to ruin it for me.

Jace PoV

"Hello, Jace. You're in for a treat tonight, my daughter looks absolutely gorgeous."

I smiled nervously at Val's parents. Mr and Mrs. Resilio were pretty easy-going people, I mean; they _were_ letting me take their daughter to California for the weekend.

"I'm sure she does, Mr. Resilio." I said, fidgeting with the corsage box in my hands.

"You're not going to try anything on this trip are you, son?" her father asked me.

I shook my head. "No, sir, I promise not to. Val and I aren't together like that. We've decided that we're both going to wait until after marriage." That was total bullshit, but I figured it would impress her father.

It did. Mr. Resilio gave me an appraising look. "Good for you, young man. You seem to have a grasp on the right things in life. You're going to college on a music and sports scholarship, and you're an honour student."

I put my head down. "Thank you, sir."

"Daddy, are you embarrassing Jace?" Val's voice called from the second floor.

"Caught in the act," Mr. Resilio said, laughing. His wife hit him on the arm and turned to look at me.

"Jace, all stern looks aside, have fun. Oh and pose for me when she comes down." Mrs. Resilio said.

"Of course, ma'am," I replied.

I heard Val sigh upstairs. She soon appeared at the top of the staircase, looking absolutely stunning. Her dress was a sky blue colour that matched her eyes and came to just above her knees. It was reminiscent of the dresses people depict Egyptian or Greek goddesses in with its halter neck and the back was a series of criss-crossing silver pieces. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders in a mass of perfect red curls. Her green eyes were alight with happiness and I could picture myself leaning down to her height and kissing her, her mother getting it all on camera . . .

I blinked. Did I just say _red_ curls? _Green_ eyes? I took a deep breath. _Not tonight_, I begged. _I just want one night where I'm not comparing the two of them. Just one night. _

"You look beautiful, Val," I said. I looked down at the corsage box in my hands. "I got you a corsage."

Val smiled at me. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

Her mother took pictures as I gave Val the corsage box and she opened it. The pretty floral corsage wristlet was a simple white orchid with little blue gemstones and a silver ribbon wrapped around it. "I love it Jace," she said, wrapping her arms around me. I helped her put it on.

"Now, pose by the door, and then we will let you go," her mother instructed.

We complied. I wrapped my arm around Val's shoulders for the picture, giving them my best smile. _She would be shorter, and her crazy red curls would be tickling my chin, and I would have to duck down for us to both be in the same picture. But I would be with her, and we'd be in love, and having fun together._ I had to stop thinking about her, about everything. I stuck my tongue on the roof of my mouth, silencing my internal babble.

"—you got us a white limo! Oh my God, Jace! Okay, its official, I'm like the luckiest girl on the planet." Val said.

I smiled at her and walked her down to the limo. The driver opened the door for her like I told him to, and I got in after. The driver quickly showed us how to control the radio and told us not to lean on the bar because it's sensitive. He then shut the door and got in at the front. He closed the window between himself and us, and started driving.

"You're amazing," Val said. "I'm not sure if I ever told you that." She rested her head on my collarbone and placed her hand on my chest.

"And you're the most gorgeous girl I have ever seen," I replied, placing a kiss on her nose. Val let out a little giggle. We sat there in silent for a moment, until Val reached over and turned the radio on. A soft ballad started playing and Val seemed to know the song instantly. I did too. It was the song I played for her in the theatre that one day. _One Hundred Years_ by Five for Fighting. Val hummed along to the lyrics, until it got to the chorus and I covered her mouth with mine.

Her humming broke off instantly. The kiss was soft and sweet, and her hair was tickling my nose in the most perfect way. Her perfume, not too light but not too heavy, filled the air, and I could feel the softness of her skin against my cheek. Her breaths were hot against my skin. I was the one who broke the kiss, gasping for clean air.

I began kissing lightly up her jawbone to her ear, where I whispered: "Tonight is going to be amazing."

Val smiled at me and pulled my head off of her face. "Jace, I think I need to tell you something. And I want you to understand how hard this is for me to say. So don't freak out."

I felt my eyes go wide. "Wait a sec. You're not pregnant are you?"

Val made a face at me. "God, no. I wanted to say that, I think I really like you. Like, I think I might love you."

I sucked in a breath. That wasn't what I wanted to hear. I didn't know how to respond. "Umm, yeah, me too." I said, feeling like I was lying through my teeth, when the statement should very much feel like the truth. Val was wonderful, one of the better girlfriends I had ever had. Why couldn't she be the best?

She smiled even bigger. "Oh, Jace, thank you for that. I was so afraid that you would laugh and then we'd break up and . . . Okay, well I know that sounds pretty stupid. I really had nothing to be afraid of. I always knew you were the one."

I backpedalled. "This is serious matter for the ride to prom isn't it?"

"Maybe, but my dad proposed to my mom on their prom night. Of course, that was after my dad got my mom pregnant with me."

I sighed. "You're not pregnant Val. And I still love you, but it's a little early for a proposal, don't you think? Let's wait until _after_ we graduate university."

Val pouted a little. "Fine, I've always liked the idea of getting married in my twenties, anyway."

I let out a deep breath. I was glad to have that matter put aside until a later date. I needed to figure out my feelings before I proposed to anyone. I was still comparing Val to my previous girlfriend, how could I be ready for a serious commitment?

The limo stopped and I looked out the window to see the Plaza Hotel shining brightly. I had been there once before, when Maryse had been redecorating the house and needed all of us out for the weekend, including nights, to finish the bedrooms. The limo driver opened the door, and we got out. I took Val's hand and led her into the hotel and down the hall to the room the dance was being held in. I gave the man our tickets as Val gushed over how amazing the room looked. People were already seated at tables and the food was being served.

A quick scan of the room showed that the only seat for two was left at the same table as my sister and her date. I pointed it out to Val, who nodded enthusiastically, not knowing what being near the redhead would mean for me.

Val led the way to where Isabelle and Simon were sitting. I refused to acknowledge the third person sitting at the round little table.

"Hey Isabelle, you look great!" Val said, hugging my sister.

"You too, Val! That colour looks great on you!" Isabelle squealed. "Oh, hi Jace."

"Hi, Izzy. One second Val, I'm just going to go to the washroom; try to flag down a waiter while I'm gone." I said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

I made my way through the crowds of talking people; feeling like my head was going to burst. I made it to the bathroom and had to hold onto the sink to steady myself. Why, why, why, why, why did she have to be at that table? Why, why, why, why, why.

I let the cold water from the sink run over my hands, and I took deep breaths, like you would tell someone having a panic attack to do. But, I wasn't having a panic attack. Everything was fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

I repeated phrases to myself, like _Val looks gorgeous, Val looks gorgeous, Val looks gorgeous_, and _Clary doesn't matter, Clary doesn't matter, Clary doesn't matter_. I don't know whether it was working or not. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and I pulled it out to see Val's name on the screen. I clicked the answer button. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jace, it's Val. Are you okay? Your food's getting cold and they're starting the actual dance in about fifteen minutes."

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

"Alright, and Jace, I love you."

"Yeah, love you too. See you in a minute." I clicked off and looked my reflection in the eyes. _Okay, suck it up. Yes, you're going to have to sit next to your ex-girlfriend and pretend nothing is wrong, but that's the price of moving on. You're not going to ruin this night for Val. You're not going to compare her to Clary. You're going to man up and go back out there._ I took a deep breath and left the bathroom.

When I got back to the table they were announcing that the dance would start in ten minutes. I took a few bites of my food, before realizing I couldn't stomach the food. I felt sick, and not in the clinical way. All I could think was how wrong I was to be leading Val on like this, and how everything was so wrong. I pushed my plate away and took long sips of my water.

"You okay, Jace?" Val asked. She was the only one looking at me. Isabelle, Simon and Clary were having some heated discussion over movies. Not that I cared.

"Yeah, Val, I'm fine. I haven't really eaten much this week since whatever the doctors gave me at the hospital hasn't allowed me to stomach much food. Eating food now is upsetting my stomach a bit. But I'm fine. Really." I smiled at Val for good measure.

A girl I recognized from my English class stepped up to the microphone. "Hey, guys! So, I'm Alicia Grace, your 2011 prom organizing committee chair. I just wanted to say a few words in welcome before we get our nominations for prom king and queen, and start the dance. There are many people who worked to make this night possible, especially our fabulous band and deejay, and the caterers who provided all of the wonderful food. So, let's give everyone who made this night possible a hand, and then we will get on to the nominations."

Everyone clapped, and the girlfriend of the band's frontrunner screamed out how much she loved him. Alicia tapped the microphone a couple of times to get everyone's attention. "So, now that we have thanked everyone, I would appreciate it if, one at a time, you could shout out your nominations for prom king and queen. The voting booth will be set up at the back and we will announce the winners at ten 'o' clock."

Someone shouted out, "Sebastian Verlac for prom king!" Followed by, "Jace Lightwood for prom king." A few other girls nominated their boyfriends, and then Isabelle called out, "I nominate Simon Lewis!" It took everything I had not to laugh at the hilarity of her proposal. The last name to ring out was, "I nominate Cam White for prom king!"

At that point, Simon called out in turn, "Isabelle Lightwood for prom queen!" One of Val's friends on the other side of the room shouted, "Val Resilio!" I smiled at that. Maybe we would both win and everything would be normal and right. Sebastian Verlac nominated Clary and my heart stopped for a second.

Everything else was blurry. The only thing I was hearing was Verlac's voice over and over again saying, "Clary Fairchild for prom queen!"

I vaguely acknowledged Alicia thanking everyone and announcing that the dinner portion was now over and we would be left to dance. The waiters started wheeling the tables away, and the band began to play a cover.

"I love this song, Jace! Come dance!" Val said, tugging my hand.

I nodded and followed her onto the center of the dance floor, leaving all thoughts of Clary behind.

Sebastian PoV

My whiny date grabbed my hand and placed it on her ass. "Oh Seb, I love when you touch me!" she said in her nasally voice. Seriously, sometimes she reached a frequency that would send dogs crazy.

"Yeah, I love it too," I said sarcastically. She was oblivious to it and continued grinding into my hip.

"See, we are like, totally the perfect couple. I can't believe you didn't ask me out earlier!" she squealed.

"Uh, yeah . . ." I couldn't even remember her name. All I knew was that she was as annoying as hell.

She started singing along to the words of the song. "_Make 'em go up, up, up, as you shoot across the sky, sky, sky. 'Cuz baby you're a firework!_" Her voice even broke on the high note.

_Just shut up_, I thought. "Why don't we do a little more dancing than singing, how does that sound?" I suggested. _Anything to make that awful sound stop_, I thought. It was like she was running over a cat repeatedly with a pick-up truck.

She pouted at me. "Okay, but I have to warn you, I'm an awesome dancer."

"I think I can handle that." With any luck, she'd be a half decent dancer. I kept thinking about how I wished this night would speed up. I wasn't sure how much more of this date I could take. She was getting more annoying by the minute. I could understand why Jace dumped her.

**9:50**

Clary PoV

It was ten minutes away from ten 'o' clock. Band was playing their second slow song of the hour and I was hanging out by the punch bowl. Isabelle and Simon were dancing nearby; she had her head resting on his shoulder. I couldn't help but feel happy and proud of Simon for finally meeting a girl as great for him as Isabelle.

I felt like I was ruining their happy evening, being their broken third wheel. I felt like I was a disappointment to the whole spirit of prom. It was about having fun and loving your friends. IT was the last big night together before graduation. I was wary for the mysterious boy because of my dream. A couple of guys had offered to dance with me, but I declined out of fear and worry.

The prom organizer girl came up to the mic again. "Hello again! Now is the moment you have all been waiting for! The crowning of our 2011 prom king and queen! So, without further ado, drum roll please," the drummer gave Alicia her drum roll, "your prom king in Jace Lightwood! Let's give him a hand!"

Everyone applauded and Jace walked up onto the stage. Alicia gave him his crown and gave him a one-armed hug. "And now, your 2011 prom queen is . . . Clary Fairchild!" I stood there in shock. "Clary, Clary Fairchild? Please come up and receive your crown!"

Isabelle tapped my shoulder. She and Simon had joined me. "Clary, you gotta go up there. You're strong, so go face this. You'll be fine. Show everyone how smoking hot you look in that dress!" She gave me a little shove.

I walked up to the stage and stood beside Jace, receiving my crown from Alicia. "Now, for the prom king and queen's dance!" The deejay cued in a familiar song and Jace took my hand in his.

_I remember what you wore on the first day__  
__You came into my life and I thought__  
__"Hey, you know, this could be something"_

_'Cause everything you do and words you say__  
__You know that it all takes my breath away__  
__And now I'm left with nothing__  
_

How appropriate. Holding Jace's hand, having his other one resting on my hip felt so right and so wrong. I remembered the first time he held me like this in his backyard. He asked for permission to kiss me and I said yes.

_So maybe it's true__  
__That I can't live without you__  
__Maybe two is better than one__  
__There's so much time__  
__To figure out the rest of my life__  
__And you've already got me coming undone__  
__And I'm thinking two is better than one_

I lay my head on his shoulder, letting the music sweep my away; ignoring how much this scene was like my dream. It was two perfect in the moment to be wrong. This was how I was supposed to feel. This was something that neither of my previous boyfriend's had made me feel.

_I remember every look upon your face__  
__The way you roll your eyes__  
__The way you taste__  
__You make it hard for breathing_

_'Cause when I close my eyes and drift away__  
__I think of you and everything's okay__  
__I'm finally now believing__  
_

I looked up at Jace's eyes and saw all of the things I was feeling mirrored there. Part of me yearned to scream out, "Screw Val, let's run away together!" But the other part of me, the sane part, was disagreeing.

_That maybe it's true__  
__That I can't live without you__  
__Maybe two is better than one__  
__There's so much time__  
__To figure out the rest of my life__  
__And you've already got me coming undone__  
__And I'm thinking two is better than one__  
__Yeah, yeah_

_I remember what you wore on the first day__  
__You came into my life and I thought, "Hey,"__  
__Maybe it's true__  
__That I can't live without you__  
__Maybe two is better than one__  
__There's so much time__  
__To figure out the rest of my life__  
__And you've already got me coming undone_

I smiled at how much the words of the song related to my relationship with Jace. It was, in a way, sort of ironic that they were playing this song of all songs for this dance.

_And I'm thinking__  
__I can't live without you__  
__'Cause, baby, two is better than one__  
__There's so much time__  
__To figure out the rest of my life__  
__But I'll figure it out__  
__When all is said and done__  
__Two is better than one__  
__Two is better than one_

My phone vibrated in my clutch purse as the song ended. I ignored it, allowing Jace to pull me in close and give me a kiss. All I could think of was how wrong it was for him to be kissing me like this when he has a girlfriend. "Val's in the bathroom, Clary," Jace whispered in a hushed voice. "I don't love her, Clary. I don't. I only told her that to make her happy. My choice is you, always you." We broke apart and I checked my phone.

The text was from a private number and it read: **I warned you about tonight. Wrong move with the kiss. I wonder where little Isabelle is?** I hear a scream pierce through the air. I whipped my head up to look at Jace. "You idiot! This is all your fault! Why'd you have to kiss me? I _hate_ you!" I screamed at Jace. I ran down the steps and out to where the scream came from, leaving Jace there looking shocked.

**Okay, so what do you think? I'm sorry to leave you with yet another cliffy, but it was completely necessary. Maybe I'll be nicer with the next chapter and not give you a cliffhanger for once. Even though I'm going to repost this with the beta'd version later, please don't be afraid to review! I absolutely love your reviews and they inspire me to write this quicker!**

**xoxo,**

**FireandIce95**


	16. Love, Lose, and Move On

**It's been so long since I've updated this story! I am so sorry! I had a huge case of writers block! Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. It's short-ish, but I think it really ties some loose ends together and brings us one step closer to the end of this story, which is actually quite sad. Well, for me it is. This is my fanfic child. I think there will probably be about 4 chapters left of this story and then maybe an epilogue. It depends on how the next few chapters go. I just want you all to know that I've been incredibly thankful for all of your support, and that I really appreciate all of your reviews. So without further ado, I give you this chapter. **

**Chapter Songs:**

**Disappear- Beyonce (the first scene, Jace's PoV)

**Just a Kiss- Lady Antebellum (the second and third scene, Isabelle and Clary's PoV)

**Jet Lag- Simple Plan feat. Natasha Bedingfeild (fourth and fifth scene, Jace PoV and the email)

**Disclaimer: You know what I own and don't own.**

16. Love, Lose, and Move On

Jace PoV

There's something about having a girl run away after you kiss her that's a little humiliating. That situation, for a guy, is like having someone put a pin t your ego and letting all the air slowly seep out. My cheek stung from where she slapped me and I was frozen on the spot with shock. The audience, having witnessed the whole thing, were whispering and I heard someone mention calling 911. I wanted so badly to run after her and see if she, and my supposedly injured sister, was okay.

For some reason, that idea seemed fine in theory, but I didn't really want to give her another chance to slap me. The whole ordeal was making my head spin. One moment, she was telling me that the love I felt for her was mutual, and the next she was slapping me and saying she hated me.

I caught my ex-girlfriend, Kaelie, staring at me with a perpetually happy 'I told you so' face. Something in her expression pushed me towards leaving the stage. I hopped down, not caring whether my crown fell off or not, and ran through the startled crowd. I got to the door that she had left through and wrenched it open. A blast of cold air hit my face, and I could see two girls in dresses and a boy in a suit kneeling there. I made my way over as quietly as I could, trying not to startle them. There wasn't any light in the small back-alley except for the glow coming off her phone. A single text message was on the screen.

**I warned you about tonight. Wrong move with the kiss. I wonder where little Isabelle is?**

Panic hit me. This really was my fault. _I_ initiated the kiss. And now Isabelle was hurt, and Clary hated me.

Seeing your sister covered in blood is _not_ a pleasant experience. Neither is noticing that it's not all coming from her. The fact that all the blood on her wasn't hers was actually quite comforting, it meant that wasn't as injured as all the blood made her seem, but it also meant that there was someone else involved in the act who, although they hadn't gotten away unscathed, was lurking somewhere.

"Izzy, you _have_ to put your hand on it! You need to staunch the bleeding! I _know_ it hurts, but you're just going to have to suck it up. I am _not_ letting my best friend bleed to death!" Clary said her voice firm.

"But its blood," my sister said weakly, "it's disgusting."

"It's also _your_ blood, which makes _you_ touching it less disgusting than _me_ having to touch it," Clary argued back.

I figured this was as good a time as any to break in. "Or Simon could just give you his tie," I suggested, kneeling beside my sister and Clary.

The latter glared at me, while Isabelle looked at me tiredly. "What the hell is your problem? You two are total idiots. You know what, I'm not touching any of the blood on body until the two of you kiss and make up. Because seriously, we're all sick and tired of all your damn sexual tension; do the world a favour and stop it." Isabelle gave us both a stern look. I had a feeling that she was absolutely serious about not touching the blood until we decided to talk.

Clary and I weren't exactly on the same page. "Fine, Iz, I'll touch the blood. I don't want to talk to him." She was always stubborn.

"You'd rather catch infectious disease than talk to me? What if she has AIDS?" I asked, knowing full well that Isabelle was perfectly healthy, except for the fact that she had blood coming out of a large gash.

"Isabelle does _not_ have AIDS. On the other hand, talking to you is bound to make me do something I will regret," Clary stated, moving to put her hand over the gash on Isabelle's stomach.

"Clarissa Fairchild, if you don't talk to him, I will break into your house and steal all of your art supplies and _never_ give them back. _Ever_." Isabelle threatened. Clary pulled her hand back and made a face.

"Fine, Iz, I'll talk to him. But I'm not sure that the results will be what you're looking for," Clary said.

"Just don't kill him. He _is_ my brother, you know," Isabelle said, sounding weaker by the minute.

Clary sighed and looked at me briefly. "I'm going to talk to him. Just put your damn hand on your cut Isabelle." Clary stood up as Isabelle complied and glared at me. "What do you want to talk to me about so badly?"

I was taken aback. I didn't know that Clary even _had_ the capacity to talk in a spiteful voice. "I just want answers. I kiss you and you run away, screaming something about it all being my fault. What the hell was that about?"

Clary looked down at her shoes. She had her eyes closed and looked like she was about to cry. "Jace, you know I want to tell you, but . . . I don't think I can. Not without someone else getting hurt."A single tear rolled down her face.

"Clary," I said, my voice gentler than ever before, "you know you can tell me anything. I'll believe you, trust me."

"I'm not afraid that you won't believe me. I'm afraid about what he'll do if I tell you. I don't want you to end up like Isabelle."

Wait. Was Isabelle's injury somehow connected to all this? "Clary—are you saying that because we kissed, Isabelle got hurt? Is someone," I searched for the right word, swallowing hard, "_blackmailing_ you?"

Clary nodded and more tears rolled down her face. "I—I _really_ wanted to tell you Jace, I swear to God I did. But . . . I was scared for you. About what this person might do. I got this email from an anonymous sender that told me I was invited t play a game called Keep Away. The rules were that if I touched you or you touched me, even a little brush in the hallway, someone I loved will get hurt. And if—if I kissed you . . . _someone would die_." The tears began to flow more freely down Clary's cheeks. She crossed her arms over her chest, almost like she was angry and hugging herself at the same time.

I put my head in my hands, letting out a groan. "God, Clary, you should've told me! Screw protecting me, you—"

Clary placed a finger over my mouth in a _shush_ motion. "I was so scared of what would happen if I told you, what . . . what if he killed you? He got so close, _so close_, outside Taki's." She was referring to when I got shot.

I shook my head. "I would take a thousand of those bullets if that's what it would take for you to tell me. Don't try to protect me Clary. I have a feeling this has something to do with when Simon and his uncle picked you up from the arena after our date."

Clary looked back at where Isabelle was sitting with Simon. Isabelle had a piece of cloth in her hand and was holding it to the gash on her arm. "I—I think so. I also think that the new kid, Sebastian, is part of it. He seems really familiar to me, even though I didn't know him before he moved back here."

I nodded. "He used to be different. _Really different_. I thought that maybe people change, but, well, not _that_ drastically." Talking to Clary, normally, without any angry tones, felt good.

"What are we going to do?" Clary said, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Maybe Sebastian is the one blackmailing me, and the one who hurt Isabelle."

I clenched my fists at my sides. "That bastard would. Probably to get back at me for something."

Another angry look crossed Clary's face. "Damn it, Jace! Stop doing that! Every damn thing that goes wrong is _not_ your fault. Maybe this is news to you, but I don't think you're going to hell. Stop with the ongoing pity party!"

I felt another wave of anger rise through me at her words. "_Pity party_? Really, Clary? That's a low blow, even from you. First you break up me or some mysterious reason, and now, when I try to give you a reason for this mysterious person to threaten you, you accuse me of having a pity party."

Isabelle's voice carried from where she was sitting. "I hear fighting! Kiss and make up already!"

Then, Simon's. "Clary, if he's threatening you, use the self-defence Sensei Giovanni taught you!" A cracking sound resounded from their direction. "Ouch Isabelle! What the hell was that for? I know self-defence too! Sensei Gio taught me a lot."

I looked over at Clary, who had a smirk on her face. "Who's Sensei Gio?" I asked her.

She gave me a look that was equal parts pissed and amused. "Sensei Gio's this guy Simon met in a parking lot when he was seven. The guy looked like he was Japanese, but he spoke with a heavy Italian accent. Simon watched him break up two boys that were having a full-out fist fight and he assumed that Gio was a martial arts instructor, so he convinced his mother to pay the guy to teach us self-defence at Simon's eighth birthday party. The poor guy had no idea what to do with a bunch of seven and eight year olds, so he taught us really basic, common sense self-defence. Simon liked it and had his mom hire 'Sensei Giovanni' to be Simon's actual Jujitsu teacher."

I shook my head. How someone like Clary could possibly be friends with someone like Simon amazed me. "Look, I'm sorry for whatever I've done to piss you off. For moving on so quickly, or whatever. But we have to call an ambulance for Isabelle."

Clary's green eyes were brimming with tears. "Jace, don't you see? It's not your fault at all. I've just been looking for someone to pin all the blame on, and you've been the closest person. _That_'s why I didn't want you to go off on another pity party. I've been throwing you one for the past couple months."

I glanced over my shoulder at where Isabelle had her lips sealed to Simon's. She looked fine . . . for now. Jace had no idea what her actual wound was, just that there was a lot of blood gushing from somewhere on her torso. "Clary, I—" I didn't get to finish my sentence. Clary leaned forward and stood up on her tip-toes, keeping whatever words I was about to say in my throat as she pressed her lips against mine.

I relished the soft feeling of her lips, her hands on the back of my neck, her scent lingering in the air. She broke the kiss, her breath hot on my neck. "It's okay, Jace. Whatever you were going to say, it's fine. Let's go call that ambulance for Izzy."

Isabelle PoV

Four hours in the waiting room, three stitches, and two hours in the car with my mom later, I was lying in my bed trying to remember who the hell attacked me. He had white hair, I think. Or maybe it was darker than white, closer to blonde. Yes, white blonde. And his eyes . . . they were black. Like coal. Blacker than black coffee. He was tall? Or maybe he was short. No, he was certainly my height or better. He looked ridiculously like Sebastian Verlac, mixed with Jace. Weird.

"Miss Lightwood, can you tell us what he attacked you with?" That was Detective Burns, the man in charge of my 'case'. Hah, I have a case.

"I think he had a knife. At least, that's what the doctor said the wound was from. But he might've had a gun too. There was something hanging from his belt." I answered. These questions were starting to make my head hurt.

"Can you tell us why anyone would want to cause you bodily harm?"

"I have the best shoes at school." When he started writing that down, I backpedalled. "No, no, that's not what I meant to say. My collection of shoes is mostly designer heels, and my attacker was most certainly a guy. He wouldn't be after my shoes. I think he might've been after me on account of a threatening note my friend received."

He nodded and wrote this down. "Okay, what was the threat and do you have any proof of it?"

I shook my head. "It's probably better if you hear it from her. She's the red-haired girl sitting in the other room beside my brother."

"Thank you, Miss Lightwood. I think I will."

Clary PoV

I have to admit that I've missed kissing Jace. Any girl would. It's not my fault he's so skilled and other guys are sloppy compared to him. Not that I kissed other guys while we were on our relationship hiatus—I refuse to think of it as a break-up.

"You know I'm leaving tomorrow," he said, running a hand through my straightened hair. "In fact, Val could walk in at any minute and expect me to be ready to leave for California with her."

"I know," I said, looking at my feet. "But I'm trying not to think about that. I just want to know why he would go after Isabelle."

"Because whoever it was is a complete psycho who follows through with his threats and Isabelle was the easiest target because she wasn't inside the hotel with the rest of us." Jace answered, as if it was the most common sense thing in the world.

A cough from the door had me jumping off his lap. "Hello?" I asked tentatively. If it was Val, Jace and I were in deep shit.

"Hello, Isabelle directed me in here to ask some questions to a Miss Clarissa Morgenstern." It was the detective guy that Maryse had called.

"I go by Clarissa Fairchild now, but yes, I'll answer your questions. Come in." I replied, feeling really formal and oddly shaky.

The detective came in. He was a tall man, mid-thirties, with brown hair wearing a trench coat. "I'm Detective Burns," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his trench coat. "Isabelle directed me to you to ask you some questions about the threatening note you receive, which may've lead to Isabelle's injury?"

He ended what should've been a statement in a question. It was oddly intimidating. "Yes, we think it might've. What has Isabelle told you?"

The detective hesitated before shooting a look at Jace, who was looking, disinterested, at his nails apparently examining them for defects. "Do you mind asking him to leave?" The detective's voice was cool, polite.

Jace, upon hearing this, seemed to snap back to reality. He looked up from his nails, up to my face. His expression was unreadable, and his golden eyes bore into mine. "He doesn't really have to go, does he?" I asked, my expression pleading.

Jace shook his head and started standing up. "No, its okay, I can go. It's probably time for me to put that cream-medicine stuff on my leg anyway." The detective gave him a funny look, and he added, "Gunshot wound. I dove in front of a woman and took most of the blow. Well, the first one anyway. Rest assured, it's getting better." Jace got up without giving me another look.

The detective turned back to me. "So?"

I took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll tell you everything."

Jace PoV

I left Clary alone with the detective. I needed to be able to think, and I can't seem to be rational around Clary. All of this happened too quickly. Clary hooking up with Cam on her first day here, me making out with Clary at a party, dumping Kaelie for Clary, and then having Clary dump me because of a death-threat note. Now me going off to California with my 'girlfriend' Val, even though every inch of my being is telling me to dump Val flat on her ass and tell Clary that I love her.

Call it my conscience finally showing up, but I couldn't do that to her even if I tried. No matter how much I might want to, I can't. I'm not even sure about university anymore. If I want to go, where I want to go, what I want to do. When I was with Val, everything seemed so clear-cut, but now that I finally know what's going on with Clary, it's like my view of the world has shattered into a million tiny little pieces, each showing a different future. And now I don't know which one to choose.

A knock on the front door broke me from my thoughts. I knew who it was before I answered the door. Val.

"Where were you Jace? I went to the bathroom for two minutes and when I came back, they—they told me that that little slutty redhead was crowned prom queen and you as prom king and that she—she kissed you! And then I heard that you two ran off the stage together! What happened?" Valerie's voice was a cross between crying and anger. I suddenly felt like slapping her, _slutty redhead_? Who died and gave her the ability to call Clary that?

"I'm sorry, Isabelle got hurt. And I didn't kiss Clary. She didn't kiss me. She whispered to me how sorry she was for winning prom queen, when she knew that you deserved to be up there with me. She ran off the stage, and when I heard Isabelle scream, I ran off too. Iz got hurt by some maniac behind the hotel when she went out to get some fresh air." I said slowly, staring right into Val's eyes. For a minute, she looked dazed, and then:

"Isabelle got hurt. You didn't kiss Clary. She didn't kiss you. She whispered to you how sorry she was for winning prom queen, when she knew that I deserved to be up there with you. She ran off the stage, and when you heard Isabelle scream, you ran off too. Iz got hurt by some maniac behind the hotel when she went out to get some fresh air." She sounded just as dazed as she looked. Did I do that to her?

"Yes, Val." I said patiently, waiting for her to snap out of her dazed look.

When she did, she looked at my hands, like she was expecting me to have something. "Oh ya, I should've guessed that when I saw the police car in the driveway. Sorry for accusing you of kissing another girl. Where are your suitcases?"

I looked at the clock on the wall. _Crap_. Our flight was supposed to leave in an hour. "Oh, um it's upstairs. You stay down here and I'll just run up and grab it." _And take a quick detour_.

I half-ran, half-limped up the stairs, my leg bothering me again. My suitcase was already packed, so I grabbed a piece of loose paper off of my desk.

_Clary_, I wrote_, I'm going to California with Val. I can't just dump her flat on her ass right now. I promised her California and she seemed really excited. I can't just let her down. Maybe I could've before, but not now. If our positions were reversed, I know you'd do the same thing. I want you to know that I don't love her anymore. I never did. But you, I've always loved you. And I swear to God that when I come back, I'll tell you that I love a million different times, in a million different ways and languages until you believe me. Because it's true. I have to go now, but keep me posted on how the investigation is going. I have my laptop with me, and I swear to check my emails every day, multiple times. I love you, _je t'aime_, _ik hou van je_, _amo te_, _te iubesc_, _te quiero_. See you in a week._

I grabbed my suitcase and folded the note up. I placed my suitcase by the door with Val and told her that I just had to give Maryse a note with things like phone numbers on it because she lost the one Val wrote up for her. I slipped into the room where Clary was with the detective, stopping him mid-question.

"This will only take a minute," I told him. Then, looking at Clary, I said, "Clary, I have to go now. I don't have much time, so I can't really explain, but everything's in this note." I sealed off her protests with a soft kiss.

"Goodbye," she whispered, before turning back to the detective.

When I got back to the front room, Val was checking the time on her phone. "Jace, we've got to go. Our flight leaves in fifty minutes."

So we left. I left the only person I would ever love, the only person I truly cared about. I would let Val enjoy this week, and then I would enjoy forever with Clary. Everything was going to work out. I'd email with Clary for the whole week, and then I'd have her in my arms again.

* * *

**From:** Clary Fairchild

**To:** Jace Lightwood

**CC:**

**Subject:** The investigation and other things

Jace, you note was beautiful. The detective just left and Isabelle got a call from the doctor saying that her X-rays look good and that if her wound is healing well she could get her stitches out next Sunday. She's pretty pissed at you for leaving again, and says that you have major commitment problems. But I don't think so. Your note was proof enough. I want you to know that although I can only speak a bit of Spanish and French, I still love you in every language and way in the world. Give Val her week, and then hurry back to me. I miss you.

Love,

Clary

**So, I hope you liked the chapter. It might be the last one I post until school starts up again because I'm on vacation as of this upcoming Saturday. I hope you like the chapter. Oh and the '**_I love you, _je t'aime_, _ik hou van je_, _amo te_, _te iubesc_, _te quiero_.**' **_**part was Jace saying 'I love you' to Clary in (this is in order) English, French, Dutch, Latin, Romanian and Spanish. I only translated the French and English (obviously) parts, the rest are courtesy of Google Translate. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I love hearing from you, so please review! **

**xoxo, **

**FireandIce95**


	17. Strange Happenings

**Hey! So, I figured that I would give you one last update before school starts up again! This chapter is a cross between a filler and a normal chapter. It walks the line. But I'm fairly confident that will help clear some things up and set the stage for the final few chapters and the epilogue. I hope none of the characters seem OOC. Jace isn't as over-protective of Clary in this chapter, but I hope it comes across as his resignation from telling her things and her not following them, as opposed to him not caring about her safety anymore. He's half-way across the country, so he really has zero control over what Clary does and doesn't do at the moment, and he knows it. Isabelle, on the other hand . . . . Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

**Chapter Songs:**

***_Jet Lag_- Simple Plan (feat. Natasha Bedingfield) (the first scene, which is Jace's email to Clary, and the second scene, which is Clary's PoV)

***_Away From the Sun_- Blue Rodeo (second scene, which is Clary's PoV, from when she gets a knock at her door)

***_One Last Breath_- Creed (the second email, which is from Clary to Jace, and the third scene, which is Jace's PoV)

**Disclaimer: You know what I own and don't own.**

**Enjoy!**

17. Strange Happenings

**From:** Jace Lightwood

**To:** Clary Fairchild

**CC:**

**Subject:** Re: The investigation and other things

Sorry I didn't send this earlier. Val's been breathing down my neck, insisting we go do couple-y things for the past two days. I finally lured her away from the beach house with the prospect of grocery shopping. She said that she would, so I gave her a huge list of things we may or may not need and she went off to go get them. I have a feeling her car will break down on the way home and stall her even longer. And no, I didn't plan that. The car we rented is a piece of crap compared to my car at home. I miss her (my car) just as much as I miss you. And yes, there _are_ two women in my life. Deal with it. Sorry, I don't know why I just wrote that. You will forever and always be more important to me than that car. Don't worry. Anyway, keep my posted on any new information dug up by the investigation, and tell Isabelle that I bought her a Coach purse (that Val insisted Isabelle would love as a get well soon present) and that she owes me two hundred and fifty dollars when I get home. And Clary, just so you know, I haven't done anything with her since we got her. I've let her kiss me, but the whole time I've been thinking about you. Just in case you've forgotten, I shamelessly say, _Ti amo_. That's Italian for 'I love you', in case you're wondering. I'll find a new way to tell you that every day. And trust me, I know enough languages to say 'I love you' to you a few weeks. After that, I'll just have to get creative ;) Oh, Val's back. I better send this and go help her with groceries. Don't find anyone hotter than me while I'm away (not like that's even possible anyway).

Jace

Clary PoV

Jace's email sparked a few emotions from me that I had kept bottled up. One, I was actually kind of jealous of Val. She got to spend a week in paradise with _my_ somewhat boyfriend. Two, I don't know what Jace is to me. At least Val can call Jace her boyfriend for the time being. I have no idea what he is to me, or what I am to him. Star-crossed lover sounds too doomed and tragic. Like Romeo and Juliet. Soulmate doesn't sound right either. But neither does 'boo', 'beau', or 'boyfriend'. We might have to make up a new term for what we are to one another. Something that doesn't start with a 'B' or an 'S'

A know on the door broke me from my thoughts. Simon and his mother were still sleeping, so it was just me and Yossarian the psycho-cat (he got that nickname from when he mauled my favourite pillow last week—there were scraps of my grandmother's knitting and goose-feathers _everywhere_) up and about. I was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in my robe without any makeup on whatsoever and my hair in two messy braids. Yossarian, who made no move to get the door, left me with the honour.

I slipped my feet into my moccasins and tied up my silk bathrobe just a little bit tighter so whoever was at the door couldn't see the tiny purple silk pyjama tank-and-boy-shorts I was wearing underneath. I didn't bother to check the face, which is something, especially with the investigation going on, that I should've done.

"Hello?" I said, my voice still tinged with sleepiness.

"Hello, Miss Morgenstern. Your father sent me to give you something," the man at the door said. He was tall, built, with the strangest coloured eyes I had ever seen. They were a blue, almost grey colour with hints of gold in them and had a dead sheen. His skin was the palest shade of white I had ever seen, equipped with a sallow glow that made me think he probably smoked, and his hair was a dull and lifeless grey with blonde parts.

"How do you know who I am?" I asked defiantly, hoping my voice wouldn't shake.

"Your father sent me, Miss Morgenstern." The man replied. Even his voice sounded dead. But for some weird reason, he reminded me of Jace. I couldn't peg why.

"I don't go by 'Morgenstern' anymore, sir. Tell my _father_," I spat the word out, hating the disgusting feeling it left in my mouth, "to leave me the hell alone. I stopped giving a crap what he thinks the moment he kicked me out. Tell him that if he ever wants to speak to me again, he has to bring my mother back. And _that_ is never going to happen. So good bye, good day, so long. Don't come back again." I tried to shut the door but the man stuck his foot inside the house. I couldn't shake my thoughts of Jace. _I probably just have missing-Jace-syndrome_.

His dead eyes looked right into my green ones. "Your father told me to give you this letter. And for your information, he _is_ bringing your mother back." The man started coughing all of a sudden, a horrible hacking sound that made my stomach bubble. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Um, sir, are you okay?" the compassionate side of me won over the part of me that wanted to slam the door on him and say 'See ya!"

"Yes, yes, Miss Morgenstern I'm f—" he didn't get to finish his sentence. Another hacking cough shook his body and he put his hand to cover his mouth. It came away a black-ish red and his skin looked like it was burning where the blood was touching it.

"Please, you're not okay. Let me, let me get the first aid kit. I'm trained, I swear. I have Standard First Aid training from when I went to school at St. Xavier's!" I cried.

He coughed some more, than wiped his hand on his pants and stood up straight. "I'm fine, Miss. It's a side-effect. Your father is a great man."

"A 'side-effect'? What has my father done to you?" Curiosity killed the cat, so I guess Yossarian and I had more in common than I previously thought.

"Your father is a great man. Read the letter." He reached his blood-burnt hand into his coat pocket and removed a thick envelope from it. "And I _will_ be seeing you again, Miss _Morgenstern_." He shut the door, leaving me stunned with the letter in my hand. I didn't even know how the letter got there.

I stumbled back to the couch, the sound of the man's hacking couch echoing in my head. I was no doctor, but I was pretty sure that he should go get that checked out. It wasn't normal or natural. With shaking fingers I opened the thick manila envelope. It was the same size as the envelopes my father used to send his clients with the cases in it. I got the envelope open and pulled the papers out. The first was a cheque for fifty thousand dollars, from a Mr. V Morgenstern. _Too little, too late, asshat_.

The next was a sheet printed off MapQuest, with directions from the Lewis house to the swanky Ritz-Carlton hotel in Central Park, New York City. It wasn't far from Simon's house, about a fifteen minute drive. There was a bunch of times on the paper and a phone number to the hotel with an extension to reach The Royal Suite, which was located on the 22nd floor.

The next paper was a photocopy of my mother's will with my name highlighted and all the items on her will that I was entitled to underlined. _Fifty thousand dollars, any artwork she wishes to keep, full contact with my side of the family_.

The last paper was a thick sheet of fancy lavender-scented stationary with my father's writing on it. Tentatively, I unfolded the note and began to read it.

_Clarissa,_

_If you're reading this, it means that you were clever enough to open the envelope that I had Stephen give you. He's quite a piece of work, isn't he? What, with the coughing and all. But he's a very good messenger, despite his quirks, don't you think? I'm helping rehabilitate him, you know. He was well on his way to dead when I found him and took his case._

_Speaking of cases, I included the money your mother left you and a copy of her will in this envelope. You probably found those before you thought of reading this. After all, money makes the world go 'round. I did a good job drilling that in your head. _

_You have the makings of a great lawyer, Clarissa, seeing as you were going to file a lawsuit on me if your brother hadn't put a stop to it by giving me all of your 'evidence' papers and informing me on your intentions. Where would you be now if that lawsuit had gone through? Probably not in this country is the answer I'm looking for. You'd be somewhere in hiding, because as much as I love you, my ingenious daughter, there is no way you were ever going to win the money. It isn't against federal law to have an affair, that's a church law. And you know what I think of religion, despite your mother's intentions to bring you up Catholic and send you to that expensive private school run by nuns. _

_And now you're filing your second case? Yes, I know about the investigation, and don't forget, Clarissa, that I'm in the law business. I know what investigations lead to. If you find evidence that is in your favour, you and those Lightwoods and probably your idiot friend Simon's family will file a lawsuit against whoever the investigation points towards as your blackmailer and the person who caused injury to the Lightwood girl's person. I know how these things work._

_We should talk sometime Clarissa. I have a lot to tell you, about everything. Especially about Jonathan Christopher Herondale, who you all insist on stupidly calling 'Jace Lightwood'. Yes, Jonathan Christopher's story is a very interesting one that I think you should know. Maybe then you won't feel so comfortable snuggling up with him. _

_I'm in New York City on business until Sunday, and then I'm back to California. You have the address to the hotel and the times when I am available to talk to you. Most of my business is being taken care of from my room, so while I will always be in there, I am busy with video conferences and seeing other visitors. You also have the number to my hotel suite, and where the suite is located. Please be courteous and call before you come to visit. Even if you don't call, I'll still be expecting you. This is an advantageous offer that I suggest you not let slip._

_Much love, _

_Your father,_

_Valentine Morgenstern_

I crumpled the letter up, feeling sick to my stomach. How could he know about the investigation? And what could he possibly be talking about, about me not really knowing Jace? And how, how did he even know about Jace? Simon never mentioned him before in any of his letters to me, so how would my father know?

I sighed in frustration. There were so many things I didn't have the answers to. Maybe, just maybe, going to see my father would provide me with more evidence for this investigation. And maybe it would be able to convince me that my father isn't trying to bring my mother back from the dead like the dead-eyed man said he was. Maybe it would convince me that I'm _not_ crazy and that that man _wasn't_ connected to Jace and what my father 'knew' about him.

**From:** Clary Fairchild

**To:** Jace Lightwood

**CC:**

**Subject:** Re: re: The investigation and other things

Jace,

I'm trying to keep myself together. I feel like at any moment now, I could burst. Burst from all the anxiety, worry, nervousness, anger, sadness, and pain in my life. Today, right after I read your email, a man came to the door, giving me an envelope from my father. Inside the envelope was a cheque with the fifty thousand dollars he owed me from my mother's will, along with a copy of her. There was also a MapQuest page with directions to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Central Park, with a phone number to a certain room. In his letter, he said that he wants me to visit him while he's here on business. He says he knows secrets, secrets about you. And the creep who delivered the envelope to me hinted at him trying to raise my mother from the dead. I don't know what to do, Jace. Part of me wants to go visit him, to hear what he says and use whatever I can from it to further the investigation, because I have the worst feeling that he was something to do with it, because you see Jace, he _knew about it!_ In his letter, he said something like 'And now you're filing your second case?'! The other part of me wants to call him and tell him that there's no way I'm meeting him and that he can go to hell. But, no matter what I say or do, I can't seem to shake the feeling that this is all connected in some way. I learned how to say 'I love you' in cat-language from Yossarian today. He said it when I gave him a treat. _Mow meow oww_. I'm completely serious, that is exactly what he said. Laugh all you want, I know its just cuz your jealous that I can speak a language that you can't. Hah. So there. I still love you though, despite your jealousy of my relationship with Yossarian.

Love (in regular, plain ole English),

Clary

Jace PoV

"Jace! I _really_ want to go to this thing tomorrow night!" Val said as we were eating a late lunch at a little restaurant on the beach.

"What thing?" I asked her. Val looked at me funny and pushed her brochure towards me. She must've picked up about fifty of those things so far.

"This. It sounds _really_ romantic. I think we should _totally_ go." Val pointed to a section of her brochure.

"The 'Moonlit Mayhem'. _Based on a myriad of ancient legends that prove love conquers all, even death_." Val was right about one thing; it certainly was romantic sounding.

"There's going to be music on the beach, all sorts of contests for couples," when she said this she winked at me, "and all sorts of other fun things. Please, I really think this would be a lot of fun!" Val looked me right in the eyes. "And this sort of reminds me of a story my grandfather used to tell me." She didn't need to add '_when he was alive_'. I knew that was what she meant. Her grandfather passed away last year, right on her birthday, and from what I understood, she was really close with him and her grandmother.

"Okay, we can go," I said and her face broke out into a million-watt smile. "_If_ you tell me the story." I was curious; so sue me.

Val took a bite of her grilled chicken sandwich and chased it down with a mouthful of cream soda. "It's a stupid story that he made up so I wouldn't be scared of him dying, Jace. It's more a crazy old wives tale than it is a logical story." When my expression didn't change, Val continued. "Okay, well he'd always start off by telling me that his cancer was more of a blessing than it was a curse. He'd tell me that there are some people in the world who don't care about the fact that people have families to provide for, and that his cancer was really a reason for people not to touch him. When I got a little older, he'd tell me that he struck a deal with the wrong man when my grandmother was pregnant with my mom, and that the man's price for helping him was my grandfather's life. He would tell me that if it weren't for the cancer, the man would likely have him tortured somewhere. At least the cancer made him untouchable in a sense. There's no use torturing a man who's already going through enough suffering."

She paused and took a breath and another mouthful of soda. I brushed my palm against the back of her hand, feeling her warmth on my sensitive palm. All I could smell was the combination of her perfume and our cream sodas. The mixture of pink guava, mandarin, tuberose, lotus blossom, and bubblegum filled the air around me, and I could taste and smell every individual flavour.

"Then he'd begin to tell me the story. As I got older, the details would change, but I think that was only because when I was little I wouldn't have been able to fully understand the story for what it was. I'll try to tell it to you in the exact words he used when he last told me the story." She paused and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Once upon a time there was a young couple, who were completely in love. They would do absolutely everything together. Even on the night before their wedding, they refused to stay in separate rooms. He went dress shopping with her, breaking the rule that a man shouldn't see his fiancée's wedding dress until the day of the wedding. Maybe that's what brought the bad luck upon them. They were married happily in a tiny chapel in England and when the man's wife fell pregnant with their first child, they decided to immigrate to the United States so that he could get a better job to provide for their growing family. So they packed up all their belongings and got on a great ship, called _The Belle_, meaning _The Beautiful_. They sailed across the Atlantic Ocean on _The Belle_ with only minor storms hitting them on their journey. In a few weeks, they had reached their new home in New York City.

"The man took up a job as worker in a car plant, while his wife was a teacher. They had four children and she was pregnant with his fifth when he fell ill. The doctors didn't know what the man's illness was, except that it was terminal. They predicted that he had a year to live, if not less than that. As the man grew sicker and sicker, and his wife closer to her due date, the couple tried to do as much as they could with their children. But the man died in his sleep, the day before their baby was due. His wife went into labour while preparing his funeral arrangements. She gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The night of the man's funeral, his wife was out for a walk with the baby after leaving the other children with a sitter. She and the baby were walking by an abandoned park when she saw a figure. It looked like her husband and, as if pulled by an invisible string, she walked forward until she could clearly see him. He was shrouded in what looked like mist, and his features were stark white. But he looked healthier, stronger than he did when he died.

"The man spoke to her in a soft voice, saying, 'My darling, I'm so sorry I had to leave you with a baby on the way and four other mouths to feed. Our daughter is beautiful, she has your eyes. You're not supposed to be allowed to see me, but on nights like this when the veil between this world and mine is thin, I can speak to you. I promise, I will forever be watching over you, and when I find out what these special nights are, I will send you a sign to come and meet me here. I love you, my darling. Please be strong. Be strong, for me.' With that, the man left and his wife was left there alone with the baby, tears in her eyes.

"As promised she was given a sign, this one in the form of dates circled in her day planner. They would meet up on these nights, savouring their time together. The woman was offered many chances to remarry, but she refused them all, instead choosing to still await her husband's visits. This goes to show you that even in death; love is a bond that cannot be broken."

We were both silent for a moment as I thought over what Val had said. _This might be what Clary's father is trying to do_, I realized. Val was looking at me expectedly, so I said, "That isn't a stupid story. It's like _The Notebook_, but creepy. And don't look at me weirdly, Isabelle made me watch that movie with her once when I came home from a party drunk and had to beg her not to tell Robert and Maryse."

Val snorted and finished her cream soda. "Wow, Jace. You would. Well I'm glad you liked it, and I'm very glad that we're going. I think it will be very romantic and maybe," Val gave me a sly look, "we can have a little romance of our own there." The thought of doing that with her made me equal parts queasy and excited. I knew that it would be wrong for me to do, especially since I've realized that I don't love Val, I love Clary, but what was I supposed to do? Tell her I was waiting until marriage? I was sure that Kaelie had bragged about us doing that a million times at her cheerleading practices, so there was no way Val would ever fall for that.

**From:** Jace Lightwood

**To:** Clary Fairchild

**CC:**

**Subject:** Re: re: re: The investigation and other things

Clary,

You're going to do what you want no matter what I say. I don't even know why you're asking me about this. I know that you don't want my permission; you want me to tell you that it's too dangerous for you to go so you can scream back at me that you can handle yourself and that for me to argue otherwise would be sexist. So, I'll say this: going to see your father could be incredibly dangerous, but if it's what you think you should do, to further the case and to find out what he may or may not be doing with your mother, you should go for it. I know that was probably the last thing you expected to hear from me. But I'm doing my own research over here, too. Val and I are going to the Moonlit Mayhem thing on the beach tomorrow night, and I think that it might have something to do with what your father is attempting. There's strange happenings going on right now, and I know you'll agree with me when I say that I'll be more than happy when they're all figured out. I can't write a long email, I told Val I was writing to Isabelle and she knows full well that when I write Izzy an email it starts and stops with: Hi, make sure you take your meds, keep me posted, bye. This one is much, much longer than that. Anyway, do what you feel is necessary, because after all, I'm in no position to stop you, and make sure you email me any of your findings. I'll be home soon.

_Je t'adore_ (That's French for I love you, by the way).

Jace

P.S: And no, I'm not at all jealous of your relationship with Yossarian because he is a fat blob of fur that's related to Simon. And I had a relationship like that with my breakfast this morning (bacon), and it only lead to me eating it. So, there. Try not to eat Simon's cat, though. It's probably all fur, unlike my bacon.

**So, I hope you liked it. I'll try and update soon! Please review, your reviews are all so awesome and they keep me going! And on the topic of reviews . . . Did you know that we're at TWO HUNDRED AND FOUR reviews now? It's like my birthday came early or something. Seriously, you guys are awesome. So, review, and I'll update soon!**

**xoxo,**

**FireandIce95**


	18. Moonlit Magic

**Hey! So here it is, the chapter I've unfairly made you all wait for. I'm sorry. I'm not dead, I promise, I've just been busy over the past couple, er, months. I have one of those semesters where my courses aren't hard, per se, they just include me being given a _ton_ of homework. Plus I have a job now, which is, you know, a good thing, but again, a thing that makes me busy. I hope you are all having a happy whatever-holiday-you-celebrate! I know I am! I actually love winter, especially winter break. I had a terrible case of writers block, which is another reason why you're getting this so late! And I'm completely sorry. Okay, so I'm sure you don't want to hear me make up excuses any longer, so I'll just let you read the chapter. **

**Chapter Songs:**

*** _If I Die Young-_ The Band Perry (Clary's PoV)**

***_ Stormy-_ Hedley (Jace's PoV)**

***_ Lovesong-_ Adele (Clary's PoV)**

18. Moonlit Magic

**From:** Isabelle Lightwood

**To:** Jace Lightwood

**CC:**

**Subject:** You're an idiot

I don't want to know what was going through your head when you told Clary to "go for it" and talk to her creepy ex-dad. If I wasn't nursing what the doctors _think_ is a stab wound, you would be _so_ dead right now. Seriously, I thought you loved her, and now you aren't doing anything while she goes off running to her death. Her ex-dad is like one of those mafia pimps, and do you _know_ what they _always_ have on hand? A gun. He could frickin' shoot her! And no, I'm not high on pain meds. I just wish I was cuz this wound hurts like hell. So, make this right and tell her that you were being stupid and that she shouldn't go, or else once I am allowed to get out of bed, I will make sure that you're never able to have children.

Hugs and cusses,

Isabelle

Oh and P.S: you now have to CC me on _every_ message you send her. And I will know if you don't. I have my ways, Jace Lightwood. And thank you for the purse, Clary showed me a picture of it online. It's lovely. Now I will definitely get better, if only so that I can go shopping and show the purse off XD

Jace PoV

I was getting dressed up. It sounds completely stupid, but I was getting dressed up for a beach festival. Val was insistent that we both look out best, and apparently that includes me having to wear a semi-casual dress shirt. I wouldn't have agreed if I'd known about the dressing up part. T-shirts and shorts are much easier to walk around in.

But no, I was standing in front of the mirror dressed in a grey (Val kept calling it 'off-white') button down shirt, and a pair of brown (Val insisted that they're called 'khaki') shorts. After that, she took upon herself the task of getting my hair to lie in some sort of order. She was buzzing with excitement all day, talking about how amazing tonight would be, how much she's been looking forward to this ever since she was a little girl. Even though she only found out yesterday that it existed.

My mind kept wandering back to Isabelle's email. _Seriously, I thought you loved her, and now you aren't doing anything while she goes off running to her death_.

"Jace! Jace? Are you okay?" Val pressed a warm hand to my forehead.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you almost ready to leave?" I asked. I gave her a smile, trying to convince her how 'fine' I was.

"Yep! Do you like my outfit?" she asked, twirling for my benefit. She was wearing a white lacy tank top that had buttons up the front tucked into a blue plaid pleated skirt. She had a blue cardigan with strips of lace at the shoulders on to keep her warm once the sun goes down.

"You look great," I told her, not lying, but not acting like I wanted to kiss her either.

"Thank you. You are the _sweetest_ boyfriend _ever_." Her words made me feel a little guilty. "Now, let's go. I want to get there before the sun sets so we can watch it."

Clary PoV

**From:** Clary Fairchild

**To:** Jace Lightwood

**CC:**

**Subject:** Daddy

I'm telling you this so you don't get mad when you read the rest of this email. I love you. _Te amo_. I got Simon's mom to teach me that one, pretty cool, huh? I know, I know, it's only in Spanish which is common knowledge. But hey, it's a good one, isn't it? Rihanna sings a song about it I think. Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you is that I'm sending this email right before i walk out the door to go to visit my bastard 'father'. I put 'father' in quotations, because I'm not sure if I want to call him that anymore. But, I'm getting off topic again. I'm going to see him, to demand some answers. The officer who came to visit us when you were over here set me up with a little recording thing so I can get the whole conversation on tape. It's Bluetooth-ed to the police station so, while they cannot see what's going on, they can hear absolutely everything we are saying as we say it. That way they'll know if I'm in trouble. I thought you'd approve. Have fun in California, I can't wait to see you!

_Suyos para siempre, _(that means 'forever yours' in SPANISH!)

Clary

* * *

I clicked send on the email and set my laptop down as I slipped my favourite leather strappy wedges on. I shook my freshly curled curls into place and readjusted my pale pink strapless sundress. Giving myself a one-over in the mirror, I pasted a haughty look on my face and readjusted the little recording piece in my pocket. It was an application on my iPhone, one that was wired to work even if Valentine insisted I turn my phone off.

Checking the time, I took one last look at my reflection and took a deep breath. _I can do this. I will do this_. I grabbed the keys to Simon's beat-up Chevy Camaro, a gift he wasn't able to drive yet because he hadn't gone in for his in-car drivers test, and shut the door to the house behind me. Only Isabelle knew where I was going. Simon was out of town with his mom for the weekend at a sick relative's house and Jace was, well, Jace was in California with his ex-girlfriend at a Moonlight Festival today.

I unlocked Simon's car and slipped in, checking to make sure I had the right address punched into the GPS and the package from my father in my purse. It didn't have anything extremely useful in it, like say, a room key, but it did have the room number.

I drove down the street, turning on the radio. "_If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses_." The radio crooned out. The lyrics of _If I Die Young_ by The Band Perry were haunting. If I were to die today, no one would know. And I thought that was twenty times scarier than going to see my father.

I turned onto the street his hotel was on. When I reached the hotel, I grabbed my purse and gave the beat-up car to the valet, who was giving me a snooty look. "It's a friend's. My car is in the shop. Someone did a shitty job on the transmission," I said, giving him the haughtiest look I could muster.

"Right, I wasn't insinuating that it was your car, Miss?" He left the end in a question.

"Morgenstern, thank you." I said. It was best to act the part of Daddy's Girl.

"Sorry Miss Morgenstern. My apologies," he said before driving away. Playing Daddy's Girl had its perks.

I walked into the hotel, making sure my walk was one-hundred percent stuck-up and bitchy. I felt like an actress in her final performance, reprising a part I'd played a million times before, but this time being the one that truly counted. I strutted up to the counter, thankful for that one time I was asked to be a model at my old school's fashion show and they taught me to strut. "I'm here to see Valentine Morgenstern. My name is Clarissa. I was wondering if you could call up to his room to let him know that I'm here," I asked sweetly.

"Of course, Clarissa," the tall girl with brown hair replied. The punched some numbers into the phone. "Hello, Mr. Morgenstern? Yes, Clarissa is here. I'm going to send her right up. Oh, okay. Thank you. Yes, have a good day. Bye."

The girl gave me a strange look. Her eyes had a dead look to them, like she hadn't gotten a very good sleep for the past . . . year. "He says to send you right up. Have a good day." She said.

I nodded to her and walked over to the elevator. I punched in 22 and leaned against the gold-engraved wall as I went up. Closing my eyes, I told myself to focus. When the elevator dinged to let me know I was at my floor, I opened my eyes and pasted my haughty look back on, fining it came easier now. Being around my father made the part easier to play.

I knocked on the door to his suite, barely knocking twice before the door was opened by Stephen, the man who delivered the package to me the other day. The one who reminded me of Jace. I didn't let the resemblance ruin my facade. I kept my face haughty. "I'm here to see my father. If you could escort me to him that would be _fabulous_." I said.

Stephen didn't say anything; he just motioned for me to come in and led me around the corner. My father was sitting on a plush couch with a glass of something expensive in his hand. "Clarissa, it is a pleasure to see you. You look wonderful. Care for a virgin piña colada?"

I nodded, thinking I might as well have something to drink. "Yes, I'd like that. Why am here?" I asked.

"Clarissa, I think it would be best if we went over the formalities first. How are you doing? Please, sit."

"I'd rather stand. And I have three STD's plus I'm twelve months pregnant. How do you think I'm doing?" I asked sarcastically.

Valentine's smooth brow creased as his eyes narrowed in anger. He took a deep breath through his nose and relaxed his face. "You're upset with me. You see, Clarissa, there are many things in this world you do not understand. This is but one of a million of those things. Stephen, fetch Clarissa her drink. You want to talk, Clarissa? We'll talk."

"That's what I want, sir. I just want answers. What do you know about the people around me that I apparently do not know? Enlighten me," I replied. Valentine waited as Stephen came back with my drink. I took it from him and sipped.

"First of all, I want you to know that I'm not the bad guy here. I'm not against you or anyone. I'm on your side Clarissa. I'm trying to keep you safe, away from harm. And you being with this Jace boy is very dangerous."

"How do you know I'm with Jace? We broke up weeks ago. He's dating a cheerleader now. They're going to university together." I replied.

"He's not what he seems. It's a very long story, and you will have to listen to me very closely. It started a few years before you were born, just after your mother and I were married. I was away at a conference and your mother was out in the garden painting. She liked painting back then too, and God was she good at it. Lately, she had been painting Renaissance motifs of angels and lakes and beautiful villages surrounded by mountains. She told me she was painting her dreams, and I scoffed, thinking she was being her crazy artistic self. But I loved her, very much.

"So while I was at my conference, I met this woman named Lilith Edom. She told me about this substance that is said to make children grow up strong and powerful. She asked if I was interested. I said yes, thinking that one day I should like to have children and that I want them to be strong. She gave me a vial. When your mother became pregnant with Jonathan, I decided I didn't want to trust an untested substance on my son. So I used someone else's. A man with a drug problem named Stephen. His wife, Celine was pregnant at the time with a boy as well. I gave it to her in the form of a medicine, posing as a doctor. I paid Stephen to let me, paying for his drugs. When Celine gave birth to their son, he was born healthy and strong. I was ready to use it on my next child. But Stephen insisted we continue giving it to Jonathan Christopher, Jace for short. He named his son after your brother, by the way, out of reverence for me.

"I continued supplying it to him, later finding stronger mixes from Lilith that promised to provide the child with a longer life, a better immune system. I gave him those too. When your mother was pregnant with you, I tried to give her the substance too. But she had been following me and insisted that I was responsible for the trouble going on between Celine and Stephen, who were constantly fighting at this time. She told me she was going to call the cops on me if I continued 'trafficking' to the 'poor family'. So you were born without the use of the substance, and I continued supplying it to Stephen on the sly. I was so upset when he died last week."

I stared at my father. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Stephen was alive; he had just brought me a drink. "But Stephen is here . . ."

"Yes, because of the wonderful Lilith Edom. She showed me a way to bring people back from the dead. Yes, he has a few quirks, what with the throwing up blood and the seizures every few hours, but he's perfectly functional. I had to test it out on someone before I tried it on my true purpose. Your mother. I wasn't able to fix things with her before she passed away, but now I have the chance."

I felt my jaw drop. "You want to . . . to bring back Mom from the dead?" I asked.

"Yes Clarissa that is the point. The problem is I need the blood of her children to help complete the process. A pint from you and a pint from Jonathan. And of course, I need the full moon. This just happens to be tonight. We will have a ceremony in Central Park; I even have a dress for you. You better look nice, Clarissa. You don't want to let your mother down." As he said this, I felt cold hands grip my shoulders and pull a blindfold over my eyes. I screamed, but the sound was hollow and echoed off the walls.

"Don't worry Clarissa. We're just making sure you go along with my preparations."

"Get up; you have to get ready now." Someone ordered. The blindfold was removed from my eyes and I blinked groggily. Brilliant light attacked my eyes. "Get up you piece of shit, Father wants you to get ready now." _Jonathan_.

I blinked a few more times, and then saw my brother, his white-blonde hair wet and his coal-black eyes cruel. "Jonathan," I whispered, "what's going on?"

"Father is going to bring back Mother. He needs you to get ready. He's sent up Lilith to help you." _Lilith_. The name sounded familiar, and then it hit me. _Lilith Edom_ was the woman who gave my father the substance that was used on Jace. There was no way in hell I wanted her touching me.

_Too late_, a small voice in my head told me as there was a knock at the door. Jonathan got up to answer it, shaking his head and spraying droplets of black-tinted water at me. _Black?_ He opened the door and I didn't have time to think about the black water any longer. _She_ was here. _She_ had bright blue eyes, lined with black eyeliner in a way that made her look reminiscent of an Egyptian princess. Her hair was long, mahogany and curled to perfection. She was dressed in a low-cut dress with side cut-outs. She looked like an occult leader, just slutty-version.

"You must be Clarissa," she said, her voice sugary sweet. "Hell, your father was right. You do have your mother's colouring. That's good, maybe that will help bring her colour back." She looked at Jonathan and snapped her fingers. "Sorry hottie, you gotta go. I can't let you in on _all_ my secrets." She gave him a sultry smile and pointed to the door. Slowly, my brother left the room, leaving me all alone with Lilith.

"Come here, Sweets. I feel like you're almost my project, darling. The way your father would _always_ go on about you. How you have your mother's talents, how he so wished he could use some of the Angel Blood on you, to make you absolutely spectacular. I'll give you this, baby cakes, you got the best of both their traits. Your mother was flat-out-gorgeous and your father is sexy like hell. Jonathan too, I mean _damn_." Hearing her talk about my family like that made me feel sick and when she took my hand in hers to lead me to the table, I screamed.

Jace PoV

Californians took this Moonlight Mayhem thing really seriously for people who were usually so laid-back. It was like a second Halloween. Some couples came dressed up like they were star-crossed lovers from previous ages, and I noticed more than one couple dressed up as Romeo and Juliet, as well as their New York musical counterparts Tony and Maria. "Damn, we should've come here dressed like Marc Anthony and Cleopatra, Jace! Why the hell didn't I think of that?" Val complained upon seeing all the couples. I was glad we didn't; as far as I knew, marc Anthony was a Roman army general, which included wearing heavy and sweaty old gear, which would be completely uncomfortable in this heat.

Even though the sun was setting, the air felt even more humid than it had been that afternoon. Val pulled me over to a spot away from all the business on the beach and sat down, patting the ground beside her as an invitation for me to sit down. I did, allowing her to lean her head on my shoulder but wishing I had been able to email Clary today to let her know what I was doing. It made this whole trip feel less like I was cheating on her, telling her all my ulterior motives and plans for every action. Of course, Clary probably laughed at my emails and wondered why I was being such a pussy about it. Any other guy would take advantage of what Clary was allowing me, while I, on the other hand, felt guilty about everything I've said and done.

"The sunset is gorgeous, isn't it?" Val asked. "I think I'd like to go to university here, how about you?"

Answering honestly, I said, "I don't know. I think the school is good, I mean, it will allow me to play lacrosse and participate in the music program, but I don't actually know where I want to go. I've been offered scholarships from a multitude of schools; I'm just not sure which one to pick. And I'm afraid my time is running out. I may end up taking a year off to travel or something."

Val plants a kiss on my neck, right on my collarbone. "Travelling would be fun. If you decided to do that, I'd come with you, you know. I don't want to start university without you." Val's words turned my heart to ice. I was leading her on. I was allowing her to think that we'd be able to have a future, when in reality it was my master plan to break up with her when we got back to New York.

Locals began building a bonfire. Val pointed it out to me, telling me about how one year at her cottage they bought a packet that was supposed to change the colour of the fire but didn't work and ended with her cousin being rushed to the ER because he tried to reach into the flames and retrieve the packet. I shook my head and commented on how stupid that was, and then Val kissed me. On the lips. Under old circumstances, I wouldn't have minded, but now, now that I was on the verge of getting back together with Clary, it frustrated me. Her tongue traced the outline of my lips, and then started asking for admittance. Val looked at me with frightened eyes as if she couldn't fathom why I wouldn't allow her entrance. _Give Val her week, and then come back to me Jace. What you do over the course of that week is your business, not mine. Give her fun, show her exciting. I'll wait for you_, Clary had told me. Sighing internally, I granted Val access and let her have her moment. When we broke apart, we were both breathless and smiling—out of true happiness on Val's part and out of forced habit on mine. Any other guy would love this week. Any guy but me. Especially on the day that Clary was going to visit her psychotic father.

When the bonfire was going, Val and I migrated over, both curious as to what was to happen next. An anxious hum settled over everything and the moon looked like it was directly above us. One local, dressed more like someone from Hawaii than a Californian shouted something in a language that even I didn't know. The words were guttural, like an ancient cave language. The beach was silent, except for the sloshing of waves along the shore. Val gripped my arm tighter and I turned my head to tell her that it was okay when I noticed her awed expression. Wordlessly, she pointed to the fire, which was rising higher and higher and was changing from red to blue. As the fire's colour changed, so did the air. An eerie chill replaced the sweltering heat and once the fire had risen to twice it original height, the man began to speak again in the low, guttural sounds.

The fire suddenly flared up even higher, and then curled itself into a giant ball before exploding into a shower of sparks. I covered Val out of habit and prepared for the worst, until I heard Val's voice. "Grandfather?" I heard her call. I followed her gaze to where a pale man was standing, looking haggard and broken. "Grandfather is it really you? Was your story true?" The moon was directly above us, casting its silvery glow on the beach. Val shoved me off of her and rushed over to the old man, embracing him while he stood there, rigid as a statue. I thought Val was crazy, until I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

"Jace? Darling?" It sounded an awful lot like the mother I lost years ago. "Jace? Baby?"

I whipped my head around to the direction the voice was coming from. Stood up quickly and all the blood rushed from my head. For a second, I felt dizzy and no longer head the voice. Then, "Jace, baby, careful. Can you see me? Hear me?"

I nodded to no one and then felt a pair of arms around me. "My boy, my beautiful, grown-up boy. I never agreed with what your father was doing to you when you were a child, Jace. I want you to know that. I—I knew it wasn't my place or your father's place to decide what talents you would have, what skills you would develop. But, but, I think your father meant well." I blinked, clearing the spots that were dancing across my vision.

There was a woman standing before in washed out colours, looking bloody and beaten. Her pale gold hair was matted with blood, and several jagged cuts on her forehead were crusty with dried red. "Mom?" I asked. The word felt foreign on my tongue, when I lost her, I had only been talking for just over a year.

"Yes, baby. Oh, Jace, I never thought I would get to see you all grown up. And look at you, you're a handsome young man. Look, you even have my eyes, I always told your father that they were closer to my golden brown ones than his green brown ones. Yours are gold, my Golden Boy," she said, awe colouring her tone.

"What are you doing here? You're dead, what's happening?" I asked, anxiety creeping into my voice. _Calm and collected, Jace. Calm and collected_.

"Every year, there are certain nights when the veil between this world and the next are thinner. This is one of those nights. Souls like mine, whose lives barely had time to begin, who had unfinished business here, are granted these nights to finish what they need to so they can be free. And Jace, my one regret was never getting to see you grown up. And look," her voice turned hysterical, "now I have. Now I can move on. Oh, Jace, baby, I love you so much. I couldn't be prouder of you, remember that, okay?" I nodded and she began to walk away, her feet leaving no marks in the sand. _Holy crap_, I thought, _what if Clary's dad is using this night to bring Clary's mom back from the dead?_ Suddenly I had a renewed urge to go back to New York and Clary. _If that bastard does anything to her, I swear to God I will hunt him down and kill him, no matter what the punishment is._ I spun around to see Val giving the haggard old man one last before he too retreated. I ran over to her. "Val, we need to go back to New York. Now."

Clary PoV

I didn't know that there were any forests in New York City. At least, not like the one we were standing in now, with its multitude of trees so thickly bunched together that civilization couldn't been seen from any angle. I shivered in my thin white dress and bare feet. My hair was curled into perfect ringlets and my makeup was done flawlessly, all in waterproof too, so that if I cried it wouldn't run. My arms were laden with heavy bracelets, all neatly stacked onto my arms by Lilith Edom, who was currently holding a gun to the back of my head. It was a silent threat to force me to do exactly what my father wanted.

Jonathan stood beside me, also barefoot and bare-armed, although he was dressed in all black, which made his hair look even more brilliant. He, unlike me, had no gun pressed against his head, he was partaking in this through his own free will. The thought of it sickened me. My mother was resting peacefully, why bother bringing her back and shifting the balance of nature? My father was playing God for the sake of feeling powerful.

An exchange of words was made in low, hushed tones by Lilith and Stephen as she handed the gun and my life over to Jace's back-from-the-dead father. Lilith retrieved something from her bag and lifted it to my arm. As she stuck the point into the soft skin of my right forearm I noticed that it was an empty needle. She was drawing blood for the ceremony. Once the needle was filled she stuck her thumb over the puncture hole and took another needle from her bag, this one filled with a silvery liquid. "Don't flinch Clarissa, it hurts more that way," my father said, smiling. "This is what I wanted to do to you years ago, but your naive mother wouldn't let me. I'm going to show her how wrong she was." When he finished his sentence, Lilith pushed the plunger down and I gasped at the cold sensation of the silvery liquid entering my veins.

When she was done, she recapped the needle and threw it on the ground. "There, now was that so bad, darling?" The question was rhetorical and I continued staring straight forward. "Well, you only have two more to go in your other arm now, dear. Keep being brave, I promise this will make you feel a lot better."

As Lilith prepped my arm, Jonathan's phone rang. He reached into his pocket and answered it. "Hello? Jace? Why are you calling me? Where's Clary? How the hell am I supposed to know, I'm not her boyfriend or anything. Oh, okay. Bye." Jonathan turned to me. "Wondering how Herondale got my number, little sis? I've been cameo-ing as Sebastian Verlac. Herondale was too stupid to realize that. He said that he's back just at the airport and is looking forward to seeing you. Well, I guess that's not happening." Jonathan said, laughing.

I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to give Jonathan the satisfaction. In my mind, I was hoping that Jace would trace Jonathan's call and find our whereabouts before my father could do anything. Lilith drew more blood from me, this time from my left arm. Then she injected more of the silvery liquid. "Wondering what the silver liquid is yet, Clarissa?" Lilith asked. I didn't move. She frowned, but told me anyway. "It's Angel Blood. It's going to enhance your natural talents. Isn't that lovely?"

Again I didn't answer. The moon had reached its peak a few hours ago and was beginning to make its way back down. My father had said that in order for the ritual to work properly, he needed the sun and moon to be equal distances across the sky, horizontally. That bought Jace at least half an hour to find us.

Minutes passed and no one arrived. An owl hooted somewhere and Lilith got up, sniffing the air in a feline way. "It is time, Valentine." She drew a large circle around Jonathan and me, then a pentagram inside the circle. If I hadn't been trying to act neutral, I might've asked what the shapes were for.

In the light of the sun and moon, Lilith's face took on an eerie glow. She began chanting in a low, guttural language I had never heard before. Her words made gooseflesh appear on my arms, and made the cool New York night air feel even cooler.

My father grinned like a cat that had finally caught the mouse it had been chasing, making him look predatory and, to me at least, insane. "Do what Lilith asks you, children." More chanting on Lilith's part ensued, and she motioned for me to step forward. Against my will, I found myself complying and joining her at northern tip of the pentagram. She removed the bracelets from my arms one at a time. As they fell to the ground, they hissed, steaming like hot coals placed in cold water. Lilith said something else and pulled the vials of my blood out of her dress, along with a bag of ashes. My mother's ashes.

She dumped the ashes onto the ground and then uncapped the vials and poured their contents onto the ash-covered bracelets. Some of the blood landed on my toes and I felt sick. "Almost done Clarissa, you are doing a fabulous job." Uttering more strange words, she pulled another needle from her bag. I screamed as she lifted it up, seeing that this time, the contents looked green and acidic. "Demon blood, Clarissa," she whispered. The needle pierced the skin on the crook of my arm. Lilith began to push down the trigger, and then stopped suddenly, hearing sirens blare and footsteps echo across the silent forest. The contents inside the pentagram began to sizzle even more, and smoke rose up like a bonfire made of wet wood.

Lilith looked shocked and dropped the needle, ripping a bit of my skin in the process. Bright red mixed with acidic green leaked out on the cut. Out of the steam, a figure rose, a tall one with curly hair and long legs. The police came into the clearing just as the smoke cleared, revealing a woman who looked a lot like my mother mixed with Stephen.

A blonde figure pushed through the wall of police and dashed towards me. "Jace?" I called, starting to feel faint from loss of blood and the whole ordeal in general. He caught me and placed a tender kiss on my forehead.

"Close your eyes Clary, I promise everything will be okay," his voice said. His careful hands closed my eyelids like I had seen done in movies to people who were dead. I didn't feel dead, though. I felt light and airy. "Sleep now, Clary. I'm going to take care of _everything_."

**What do you think? Worth the wait? How do you think Jace found out about Sebastian? Lucky guess or insider information? I think this story has maybe one chapter left and then an epilogue. I know, I'm sad to see it end too. Review for me?**

**FireandIce95**


	19. Parents

**Hey! You guys are so lucky! Two updates in two weeks! It's only possible because I'm off almost all day every day, so I have a ton of time on my hands. Well, this is _not_ the last chapter! I think we will have 1-2 chapters more after this. I'm incredibly sorry to see this story finish, but I've almost told all there is to tell. I hope you enjoy the chapter and Happy New Year!**

**Chapter Songs:**

****_*Unbreakable-_ Hedley (Jace's PoV)

*_You and I-_ Lady Gaga (Simon's PoV)

_*So Soon-_ Mariannas Trench (Clary's PoV)

_*Pearl-_ Katy Perry (Jace's PoV)

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: You know what I own and don't own.**

19. Parents

Jace PoV- _Three hours earlier . . ._

"Look, Val, you're going to think I'm batshit crazy but I swear to God that I'm sane. We have to go back to New York. _Now_."

She looked at me like I suggested killing the president. "What the hell? Everything's fine here. You promised me a week and I'm pretty damn sure it's only Wednesday." She said, sounding equal parts confused and annoyed.

"Look, I told you it would sound crazy. But in New York, something horrible is happening, something that I have to stop." I explained, looking her straight in the eye.

"Jace, if something horrible is happening, we're safer here. Is this about me seeing my grandfather? You don't think I need to see a shrink, do you? Because I know you saw him too. And I saw you, talking to a woman I'm pretty sure was your mother." Val said, tears starting to flow.

"Oh God, Val, _no_ that's not what I'm talking about." I sighed, trying to think of the best way to put this. "You know Clary Fairchild? The new girl from California?"

Val nodded slowly. "Yes, but what does she have to do with going back to New York? And I know you dated her, Jace. I wasn't born yesterday. Are you . . . is she . . . is she pregnant with your child or something and you have this need to go back and be the baby's father? Like on TV?" The tears flowed more freely.

"Hell no, did she look pregnant the last time you saw her? _No_. It's just . . . Well, I promised you this week, and I know the week isn't over yet, but I have to tell you this now." I took a deep breath.

"Valerie, you are an absolutely gorgeous girl. You're too good for me, and yet you put up with my crap for the past four months. And it's not fair that you have loved me no matter what I've said and done, when I haven't done the same for you. I haven't cheated on you, I can promise you that. There was something keeping Clary and I apart before, a threat that people we cared about would get hurt if we were together. But on the night of prom, Clary told me about the threat because my sister Isabelle was hurt. I told her that it wasn't right for us to let some bastard keep us apart. I think the reason I've been so bad at loving you and being a good boy friend is because I'm not over her. Clary knew you would be hurt if I dumped you right after prom and before the California trip you had been waiting so long for, so she told me to go with you. And now she's in danger. I completely understand if you hate me, but don't force me to stay here and let her get hurt." I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted from my chest.

Val's eyes burned with a combination of hurt and hatred. "Screw you, Jace Lightwood. You know, people always told me that you would break my heart, but I never believed them. I told them there was some good inside you. They just laughed at me, saying how naive I was and how the truth would eventually come out and stab me in the back. And now you're leaving me for some bitch from California who _lied to you?_ I may be a lot of things, Jace, but a liar and a cheater I certainly am not. So, no, I'm _not_ going back to New York with you. I'm keeping my plane ticket and the beach house, and you can go back to New York on your own to save your 'girl'. Oh and for the record, I don't think I want to go to university with you anymore." Val flipped me the bird and walked over, sobs racking her body.

Sprinting to the rented car, I turned my thoughts to how to get to New York City as quickly as possible, seeing as I was currently across the country. I would be remorseful over what I said to Val later, when I had time. I made a two minute trip to the beach house, grabbing my suitcase and a granola bar for the drive to the airport. I left the keys to the house in the mailbox, along with a quick _I'm sorry_ note. Actually, I wrote the _I'm sorry_ note, but at the last minute decided to throw it out. Val wouldn't accept any excuses or apologies I gave her.

I got lucky at the airport. They had a flight leaving for New York in two hours and with a lot of flirting and bribing on my part, I got the intern at the ticket counter to let me on the plane. Sadly, it wasn't going to be first class, but Clary was worth it. If sitting at the back of the plane closest to the bathrooms meant I could be home in three hours, then I'd take it.

The plane took off with ease, and exactly three hours and ten minutes later, I was standing in the luggage check line. In my pocket, my phone—which I'd forgotten was on—buzzed. Checking the Caller ID, I saw that it was Isabelle. And that she had called fifteen times in the past three hours, leaving me a grand total of ten voicemail messages. "Hello? Iz, what's wrong?" I asked.

"Thank Prada, Jace! How hard is it to pick up your damn phone? Do you have _any_ idea how many times I've called you? You'd better have an epic explanation for all this. And no, making out with Val the whole time is _not_ an acceptable answer," Isabelle said.

I sighed. "Iz, I was _on a plane_. I'm at the airport. Can you get someone to pick me up? I have the strangest feeling that Clary's in danger. Wait—what were you calling me about?"

"Clary _is_ in danger, asshat! The police gave her a voice recorder so they could hear the conversation between Clary and her father, and they heard a fair bit more than they expected, including Sebastian, aka Clary's brother _Jonathan_, boasting about Valentine's ingenious plan to bring Clary's mother back from the dead, as well as what he did to you as a child. Holy crap Jace, I totally forgive you for being such a prick when you first came to live with us. Hell, I'd have been _way_ worse than you if I'd had all that happen to me." Isabelle exclaimed. I tried not to laugh, thinking: _She must be high off pain meds; she's _never_ this nice to me_.

"Are you serious?" I had to balance my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I picked up my luggage.

"Yes! And I just texted this super hot police officer to go pick you up and take you to where they suspect Clary to be. I told him that if anyone should go get Clary, it should be you. Because despite the fact that I hate you at least five days a week Jace, and the other two days you piss me off, I don't _hate_ you hate you. There's a difference. And although I know you have a history of breaking girl's hearts and throwing them away, I think Clary really likes you. Which I find both totally disgusting and sort of cute. So you can thank me later for my supreme sweetness, but for now, go save my best friend."

The police officer, who looked no older than twenty one or twenty two was tanned and had curly black hair. Yeah, he looked like the type Isabelle usually went after. _Poor police officer_. "You must be Jace Lightwood, I am Raphael Santiago. Isabelle Lightwood sent me to pick you up. Do you have any idea where Valentine Morgenstern may have taken Clarissa Fairchild?" he asked formally.

Walking over to where the police car was parked, I had an idea. "I have Sebastian's, I mean Jonathan's, phone number. If you can trace where my call is going to, we may be able to find her."

_Present Time . . ._

"She's suffered from blood loss, we're trying to get the right blood type, but it seems whatever was injected into her system is rejecting whatever matching donors we can find," the doctor, a petite woman with greying brown hair and blue eyes, informed us.

After rescuing Clary from the forest, Raphael had driven Clary and myself to the hospital, then gone back to fetch Isabelle and Simon. "Is there anything else you can do?" Simon asked.

The nurse looked at her clipboard. "Well, Mr. Lewis, I can try a few emergency procedures, but what Clary really needs is a blood transfusion. The IV drip isn't doing much good, because she's lost a lot of the blood it needs to circulate on. As for the three of you, the best you can do is pray for her."

Simon nodded and thanked the nurse. "Wait—do you know what Valentine injected her with?" I asked, thinking maybe, just maybe, I could have the solution.

"The police found needles containing a silvery substance littering the ground. We think that must've been what he was injecting her with. Why, Mr. Lightwood?" the nurse asked, eyeing me carefully. I got up from my position beside Clary's bed.

"When I was a child, Valentine gave my father a silvery substance to inject me with. I have a feeling it might be the same substance. Could you use _my_ blood?" I asked, holding my breath.

The nurse's eyes went wide. "Mr. Lightwood, why did you not tell me this earlier? It's a long shot, but I think we may need to try. I'll prep the room next door for the procedure. Have you given blood before?" I shook my head, and she smiled. "Well, this is going to be fun, then."

Isabelle and Simon regarded me with cautious looks. "Do you think that what Valentine was talking about injecting you with is the same thing he gave Clary? Is that why Valentine didn't want the two of you together?" Isabelle asked.

I nodded. "It might be. I don't know why I didn't think about it before, but yes, that could be the answer."

Isabelle whacked me on the arm. "What the hell was that for?" I asked.

"It's in case your plan doesn't work. I figure you'd rather have me hit you now than after you give blood. Trust me, you'll thank me in ten minutes," Isabelle said with a smile.

The nurse poked her head through the door. "We're ready for you, Mr. Herondale."

Simon PoV

There is something so wrong about this situation. I'm sitting in a hard plastic chair in the hospital, praying that my best friend's on-again-off-again boyfriend's blood will help save her from death. Not your normal situation. To top it off, the girl sitting next to me used to be my . . . friend with benefits? I don't know, but I'm _pretty_ sure we had a thing. I took her to prom, which should count for something. The awkward thing about this is that I'm almost absolutely positive that she is texting with the manly police officer in charge of this case. I _can't_ compete with a _police officer_. They've got badges and stuff, and I have . . . a Dungeons and Dragons certificate that says: _Simon Lewis__ participated in New York City's second annual Dungeons and Dragons competition. He placed 6 out of 7 participants._

"So, Simon, how have you been these past couple days?" Isabelle asked, clearly feeling as awkward as I did.

"Oh, I've been good. I'm now on level 4 of Call of Duty. Last time we spoke, I was only on level 2." I said, sounding macho and manly. _Take that stupid, ripped, Spanish police officer. Skinny Jewish nerd: 1, Stupid, ripped, Spanish police officer: 20._

"Wow, that's impressive. My little brother Max beat level 20 yesterday. And Alec beat the game a few weeks ago with his boyfriend Magnus," Isabelle commented. "Simon, I have a question for you. Say a girl really likes a guy and she wants to tell him that she likes him, but she doesn't really know if she should because he's had his heart broken before. Should she go for it? Or is it better for her to give him his space for a while first?"

For a second, I couldn't breathe. I had visions of Isabelle telling me that she really did want to be with me, and for another second, I thought she might have to start resuscitating me. "Yes! I mean, yeah, I think the guy would be cool with that," I replied, trying to stay calm and collected.

Isabelle looked like she was going to say something. To profess her love for me, maybe. But then, Jace walked in. He was holding his arm and walking with purpose. "Giving blood went well?" Isabelle asked, our conversation forgotten.

"The nurse seemed to think so. I don't think she likes me much, all things aside. She even laughed when the needle went in and I winced. Not very nice behaviour." Even though I've never spent much time around Jace, I could tell he was playing high and mighty, and that the giving blood ordeal wasn't as painful for him as he was leading us to believe.

"Is she giving Clary the transplant now?" I asked, more curious about the Clary part of this than how Jace was feeling.

"Yes, yes. But don't expect her to start sputtering all of a sudden and then open her eyes. According to Dahlia—the nurse—these things take time," Jace informed us, mostly directing the information towards me.

I glared at him. "I know how these things work. I avidly watch both _Grey's Anatomy_ and _House_." I told them.

Isabelle smiled a little, and I started thinking, _damn straight. Skinny Jewish nerd: 2; Stupid, ripped, Spanish po-po: 20_, when Isabelle started speaking. "Really, Simon? You watch _Grey's Anatomy_? And as for _House_, let's just hope this doctor is nothing like him."

Jace bit his lip to keep from laughing at me. "I think Iz is right. I mean, Maryse's _mother_ watches _Grey's Anatomy_. That should be enough to turn _anyone_ off the show."

Isabelle's glare was turned on Jace. "Just because my grandmother didn't let you run rampant around the city, doesn't mean she's a bitchy old lady with a stick up her ass."

Jace turned to me for a second. "Trust me, _never_ meet Grandmother Lightwood. She makes Clary's evil father seem as cuddly as a teddy bear," he whispered.

I nodded and stole a glance at Clary. Dressed in the pink hospital gown and lying on the bed, she looked even smaller and more fragile. Her red curls were matted with sweat and hairspray that had lost its hold and her eyes had dark shadows underneath them. _Oh Clary, what's happened to you now?_

"Mr. Lightwood?" the nurse—Dahlia—said quietly. Jace whipped around to face her, his face alight with hope. It was the most _feeling_ I had seen on his face since he first came to live with Isabelle's family. "Your blood, it's taken to her system quite nicely. The doctor's think that she will be fine and have a speedy recovery. Now it's really just a waiting game, but the calculation is that she will regain consciousness tomorrow, once the blood has had twenty four hours to circulate through her system."

Isabelle smiled and I felt my face split into a large grin. Not even thinking, I ran to Isabelle and gave her a hug, which she returned. I felt the weight of Jace's eyes on my back and broke away from her. "I . . . I, yeah, sorry," I stuttered, my face turning red. Isabelle rolled her eyes and waved it away.

Dahlia started shuffling uncomfortably. "Now this is the awkward part. I don't want to kick you out since you're not causing any disturbances, but hospital visiting hours are now over, for both family and friends. Since Clary's condition is no longer critical and she is promised to make a quick recovery, I'm not allowed to make any exceptions." Dahlia shrugged, her face betraying how sorry she really felt.

"Fine. But I swear to God I'm going to be here as soon as the hospital opens tomorrow morning to see her," Jace warned Dahlia, who gave him a nod.

"I'll tell them to be expecting you. Now, shoo," she said, with hand motions and everything. We left, Jace grumbling, Isabelle texting, and me, feeling like I was missing a part of me.

Clary PoV

I felt groggy. My eyelids were heavy—so heavy—and I felt like someone had sewn them shut. My head was pounding, and the rustling of my sheets and the hospital gown I was wearing were not helping. I blinked, opening my eyes for the first time in what felt like ages and seeing myself surrounded by medical machinery. And IV drip was attached to my hand and a tube was bringing a red liquid into my veins.

"Clarissa, I see you're awake. How are you feeling, my darling?" I groan inwardly and wish I had the strength to run, to call for someone, a nurse, anyone.

"Well, well, they're giving you some of the Herondale boy's blood, I see. Probably trying to replace what they think you lost. You see, Clarissa, you didn't really lose any blood. The blood I gave you just doesn't have the same density as normal blood cells, which caused these silly doctors to think you've lost blood. We'll have to correct that, now won't we. The blood is doing nothing for you, despite their calculations. You were what they refer to as 'comatose' before because the blood hadn't a chance to fully circulate. But now, look at you, you're awake." He reached over me and gently took the needle out of my arm, and then doing the same with the intravenous drip.

"I've brought clothing for you, Clarissa, don't fret. Lilith helped me pick them out weeks ago." He walked back to where he was sitting and retrieved a _Lulu Lemon_ bag from under the chair. "She decided that you would look beautiful in a lace dress from _Guess_ and that your, erm . . . bra . . . size was a B-cup." He coughed, and then regained his composure. My face, on the other hand, was surely bright red. There is _nothing_ more embarrassing than your dad informing you of your bra size. "So that's what I have in this bag. I'll shut the curtain so you can dress yourself, but I warn you, if you aren't ready in two minutes I will come in there and dress you myself. Or take you to the car naked and have Lilith dress you there. Your choice," he said, pulling the curtain shut around me.

I swore silently. I was trapped, nowhere to go, nothing to do except get dressed and go with him. Beside my bed, Jace's blood was slowly dripped out of the tube and staining the tray my father had placed it in. I had an idea. Taking off my hospital gown and throwing on my new undergarments, I wrote Jace a note with his blood, as gruesome and unromantic as it sounds. I gripped the tube and needle like I would a pencil and wrote in big block letters, _Jace, he has me. Help._

With a sigh, I pulled the lacy dress on, noticing that it was in fact black. I folded up the gown carefully so the bloody writing wouldn't smudge. I pulled away the curtain. "I need shoes," I said, sounding resigned.

Valentine smiled at me with his set of perfect teeth. I noticed that he had a cut on his cheek that looked fairly new. "Of course. Lilith thought of everything, my dear." He pulled a pair of _Mui Mui_ platform shoe booties with a huge heel. They looked like something Isabelle would wear. He placed them on the ground in front of me. "Put them on, you'll need them." I bent down, first slipping my feet into them and then zipping them up. I stood up carefully, teetering on them a bit. "Follow me, Clarissa," he instructed, turning around and walking out of the room.

I followed him, taking careful steps. We walked down the hallways leading to the front desk area. Not looking behind to see if I was keeping up, Valentine sauntered out the door into the morning light. I followed him, sighing and wondering why the hell the police hadn't put him in jail.

* * *

Italy. _Italy_. Italy was our destination. We flew there in a private jet, Valentine, Lilith and I. I was Lilith's beauty make-over doll, and she spent the whole flight doing my make-up and hair until she was completely satisfied. "Why are we going to Italy?" I asked Lilith at one point. Her answer was: "Because it is where both the heavenly and hellish rest."

When we landed, a car met us at the airport. Stephen, dressed like a true chauffer, opened the limo door for us and I was ushered inside. While in the limo, Lilith prepped my arm and drew more of my blood, injecting the silver stuff in its place. I felt woozy and lightheaded when she did, and all I could think was: _I need to get my hands on a laptop so I can tell Jace where I am._

Jace PoV

A surprise awaited me when I got home. Maryse stood at the door with a huge smile on her face and told me that someone was in the living room wanting to speak with me about a school. I walked in and put my bags down. "I'll be upstairs if you need anything," Maryse said, ushering Isabelle up with her. In the living room, a man sat on one of the couches, a cell phone in his hand.

"Jonathan Christopher Herondale, we meet again," Valentine said, smiling at me in a fake way. Suddenly, my experience from after my first date with Clary came back to me. It wasn't a dream. This was all real. Valentine kidnapped me and did experiments on me. I felt lightheaded but refused to sit down. "Now, Jonathan Christopher, I have an offer you would hate to refuse. As far as Maryse Lightwood knows, I'm a scout from a school in Italy here to offer you acceptance to our sport and music programs. You are coming to Italy with me to take a look at the school and sit in on a few lectures. In reality though, you are coming with me to Italy where you will be able to spend time with Clary. We're building a little family there, and I need your blood to complete it. Am I understood?"

I refused to nod. "I'm not coming with you."

Valentine laughed. "Oh, but you see, this is the only way you will ever be able to see Clarissa again. You will get to spend every day with her, my little experiment. And, of course, no is not an acceptable answer." Lightning quick, I ran into the kitchen, grabbing the sharpest knife I could find. I held it in my hand, ready to strike at Valentine. He appeared in the room, seeming as calm as anything. In his hand was a needle, one that glistened dangerously in the light.

He made no move to approach me, so I flung myself over the table and lunged at him, knife ready to pierce. I caught his cheek and the knife cut a jagged line there. Valentine lashed out with precision and cracked his hand across my face. I tasted blood in my mouth. "I will outdo you every time, boy. I know your strengths, your weaknesses. I know that in ten minutes you will be completely healed and there will be no evidence on you of this fight at all. You know, I think Clarissa may think she loves you. If you love her, you'll come with me." He was trying to distract me and I knew it.

I took a step backwards, knocking over one of the barstools. _Damn it_, I swore. He was closing in on me, grinning an infuriating grin. "Look, first off, you wanted me to stay away from Clary and now you want us to be together?" I asked, needing to give him a distraction.

He blinked, stunned by my question. I took this opportunity to knock the needle out of his hand, sending it across the kitchen. "Clarissa can't live without you. Now that you share the same blood, she feels that way even more. Being separated could cause pain to her. So you see, she doesn't really love you, she just thinks she needs you." With that he swiped the knife out of my hand.

"Now," he said, playing with the knife in his hand, "give me one good reason why I shouldn't go upstairs and finish the job Jonathan started on Isabelle Lightwood." He twirled the knife dangerously, fixing me with a hard stare. He would actually hurt Isabelle to get me.

I looked around me at my options. I could call for Maryse or help, but that wouldn't do any good. I could beat him to death with a spatula, also not helpful. "Fine," I said dejectedly. At least this way I could protect Clary and it wouldn't involve us being apart.

* * *

Seven hours later, I was being ushered into a mansion in Pompei, overlooking the ruins of Pompeii and the Mediterranean Sea. Valentine wasn't the one who escorted me to Italy. He sent me on the plane on my own, with the threat on Isabelle's life hanging over my head. I was a man of my word, and on the way to the airport, Valentine had me swear on Clary's life that I wouldn't try anything on the flight to Italy or drive to the mansion. So, I arrived, wondering why the hell Valentine picked Italy to home his 'family'.

A woman with red hair and tired eyes came rushing down the stairs when I walked in the door. "Valentine? Clarissa?" she called, her voice hoarse. When she saw me, her eyes went wide. "Who are you? Why are _you_ here?"

Something about her seemed incredibly familiar. "I'm Jace Lightwood, Valentine sent me here." Then it hit me, this was Clary's mother who Valentine had successfully brought back from dead.

"I know who you are, Jonathan Christopher Herondale. I was only hoping you would tell me otherwise. I suppose your father will be happy to see you again, although he isn't here at the moment, he's retrieving Valentine and Clarissa from the airport. Why are you here? Why aren't you saving my daughter?" Her voice was full of raw desperation.

I was taken aback. "That's why I'm here. I'm here to save Clary," I told her.

She shook her head. "No, you cannot save Clary this way. He will kill you. He may have told you that you will get to be together, but you will not be together the way you wish. You and Clarissa are his experiments. Hurry; run, before he gets here—" Clary's mother stopped abruptly as the door opened, revealing Valentine, a woman I had never seen before, and Clary, teetering in a pair of Isabelle-high heels.

Valentine smiled cruelly. "I see you've met my lovely wife, Jocelyn, Jace. She's a beauty, isn't she?"

The woman next to him scrutinized me over her giant sunglasses. "You're cute," she said, giving me a predatory smile. "I'm Lilith, by the way." I shook her hand carefully, trying not to impale myself of any of her needle-sharp rings.

When I turned my gaze to _really_ look at Clary, I noticed she was wearing black, the one colour I had never seen her in. "Jace," she breathed, giving me a sad look, "Why are you here?"

Valentine smiled at his daughter and relayed the tale, the whole time her face getting paler and paler. "Can Jace and I have a moment alone?" Clary asked when Valentine had finished.

He gave her a soft smile. It looked strange on his face. "Of course, but only one minute. We'll wait in the sitting room." They left, Jocelyn's cough echoing through the hall.

Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, I am wearing lace. And yes, it is black. And yes, this is also the most form-fitting dress you have ever seen me in, thanks to Lilith who has taken it upon herself to dress me. Now, your questions are answered, so you can answer a few of mine. Firstly, why the hell are you here?"

I thought carefully about my answer. "I'm going to get us both out of here. Your father forced me to come here, saying he needed me to 'complete his collection'."

"Look, Jace, I'm glad you're here and all, but how are we going to escape? Valentine's got this whole place _surrounded_." Clary whispered, leaning forward. She faltered in her shoes and I caught her. Shooting a murderous glare at the black torture devices on her feet, she continued. "Valentine will be back in here in a minute, and we aren't going to do _anything_. We are going to go along with whatever he wants and be good little collection completions. We need proof that he's doing something wrong, so tonight we will make our escape. We'll have better luck then." Right on cue, Valentine walked in.

"Jace and Clary, I have someone I would like each of you to meet," Valentine said. Clary shot me a look that said _behave_. I nodded at Valentine and let him escort me into the next room. Valentine pointed me towards a blonde man and Clary towards Jocelyn. My heart stopped beating. I said, "_Dad?_" at the same time Clary said, "_Mom?_"

**Sorry! It's a cliffhanger. But don't worry, I plan on updating again soon. I'm also going to start a new story that I will begin working on when I finish Beautiful Monster and my Hunger Games fic. Review for me? Tell me what you think is going to happen next and why you think Valentine _needs_ Jace and Clary. **

**Till my next update,**

**xoxo**

**FireandIce95**


End file.
